


Sanctuary

by RoseInIvy



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseInIvy/pseuds/RoseInIvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The knock seemed to echo through the manor, three light taps. Three light, unexpected, taps. Everyone who heard them stopped for a moment and questioned. The institute didn’t get drop in visitors. Deliveries were usually dropped off at the front gate. People did not just show up at the institute. Everyone who paused also heard the Professor’s voice echo through their minds,</p><p>‘Logan will get the door, everyone else, go about your business.’</p><p>And that began to make people worry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The knock seemed to echo through the manor, three light taps. Three light, unexpected, taps. Everyone who heard them stopped for a moment and questioned. The institute didn’t get drop in visitors. Deliveries were usually dropped off at the front gate. People did not just show up at the institute. Everyone who paused also heard the Professor’s voice echo through their minds, 

‘Logan will get the door, everyone else, go about your business.’ 

And that began to make people worry. 

Logan went to the door and, after a moment’s hesitation, opened it. 

 

Outside stood a nervous young woman, the tension radiated off her in waves. She jumped a bit as the door was opened. 

“A-are you Wolverine?” her voice wavered. 

“Who’s askin’?” 

“Please, I need to talk to the Professor. I’m seeking asylum from Magneto.” Logan grunted in surprise. 

‘Logan, bring her to me please.’ Xavier’s voice echoed in his head. 

“Follow me.” 

The walk through the halls of the institute was strangely quiet. You had the feeling someone was watching you wherever you went, and it wasn’t Wolverine as he walked in front of you. Eventually you reached a large set of double doors. Wolverine pulled one open and signaled for you to walk in. As you did, you saw a few chairs, a large desk, and a man sitting behind the desk. His face was stern but kind, and he looked at you with curiosity. 

“Hello, I am Professor Xavier. You came to see me?” his voice was deep and warm.

“Yes, I heard this was a safe place, and I am afraid I may need protection. My name is ______ and Magneto is my father.” 

The Professor’s brows rose as he took in the information and a sharp –sshhkk- from Wolverine’s claws rang out from behind you. You tensed, waiting to be struck down. 

“Logan, put those away. We do not kill people on virtue of their heritage.” You heard a grunt and the sheathing of claws but you were still acutely aware that he was still in the room, “Now _______, why do you think you need protection? What have you done? And please sit.” 

You sat cautiously and began your tale. 

“It’s not so much a matter of what I have done but what I haven’t. I don’t have a mutation. I am powerless and human. Magneto isn’t very kind to his children with powers and I knew I was tolerated because there was an off chance that I could develop my powers later. But Sir, I’m twenty two; the powers aren’t coming. Magneto seemed to forget that mutation does not necessarily beget mutation. And I know he hates humanity almost as much as humanity hates mutants. That mixed with the connection I have to him and the secrets that I know makes me fear for my life. I know that your calling is to protect your students and any mutants you come across, but I didn’t know where else to go. Any human organization wouldn’t be able to protect me from Magneto or would throw me out for being his child. Other mutant groups don’t want humans. Please, I’m begging you Sir; I don’t know what to do.” 

The Professor steepled his fingers together and closed his eyes in thought. After a moment he began to speak, 

“The sensitivity of your situation is understandable. However, you also pose a reasonable threat to this establishment. You could be a spy, you could be a trap, and there is the obvious threat from Magneto himself. To validate your story I have to ask something of you. I am a telepath, which means I can read minds. I would like to enter your mind to ensure that you are not lying to me. It is invasive but it will not be painful. I would like to impress upon you that I don’t think you are lying, but I have my school to think of and the safety of those here is paramount.” 

“Of course! Please do read my mind. I have nothing to hide from you.” you moved to stand but Xavier motioned for you to stay seated. 

“It will be easier for me to come to you than to do this over a table.” The Professor rolled out from behind the desk and your eyes widened. He was steering his wheelchair with his mind. As he situated himself in front of you, he spoke. 

“Try your best to relax. I’ve been told that it’s a very strange feeling but it should not hurt. Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.” 

The Professor raised one hand to touch your temple and you began to be thrown back into your memories. The numerous times Magneto had stopped by your mother’s house when you were young to gauge if your powers were manifesting. The moments you had with Magneto were more strained and uncomfortable the older you got. There were flashes of Magneto making anti-human speeches. The Brotherhood changed from gazing curiously at you from afar to being threatening. You had walked into your apartment on your nineteenth birthday to find it destroyed. Slops of goo from Toad, jewelry stolen by Pietro, Lance had made the floor uneven. The words ‘Tick tock’ spray painted on the wall. Every now and again you were called on to sneak into an anti-mutant rally or organization to plant bugs or find out floor plans but it didn’t change anything. Wanda wouldn’t give you the time of day; Pietro used to, when you were young, but the older you grew the harsher he was in an effort to raise his standing with Magneto. Over time you had managed to work your connections enough to know when and where Magneto’s group or the Brotherhood would attack next but it was never enough to make you feel safe.   
Xavier removed his hand from your head.

“I can see now you have been telling the truth. However, there is the matter of allowing you to stay here. Your position is precarious and you will likely have to stay here for an extended amount of time. Everyone at the institute contributes in some way, and we would like to keep that status quo.”

“I can cook! I’m a very good cook. I can clean too. And help tutor. I can run errands; I could be a secretary or assistant! Do you need any of that? I learn quickly too.” your voice pitched up as you raced to think of things that could be useful at the institute. 

“I think we will be able to work with that. Now, if you would please wait in the hall; I need to talk to a few more members of the team before we make a decision.” You stood. 

“Yes, of course.” 

As you left the room, a black woman with shockingly white hair, a large blue beast, a young woman with red hair, and a man with shades on walked into it. They all threw a glance your way, seeming interested in your being there. You took a seat on a wooden bench to your right and settled in to wait. 

~~

Inside the office, the Professor explained the situation to Ororo, McCoy, Jean, and Scott. 

“I can see why you would want our opinion in this matter, Charles. I think if you looked into her mind and found no deceit then there is no reason for us not to give her sanctuary here.” Ororo said. Jean and Scott nodded. Logan growled from his corner. 

“I still don’t trust her. Magneto could be controlling her somehow or siphoning off information.”

“But what else can we do, Logan? She’s in limbo and needs help. Besides we’re more than capable of protecting her.” Jean commented. 

“Logan has a point though. I think we should let her stay but give her limited access. She wouldn’t be able to get to Cerebro, the Danger Room, the Black Bird, the War Room, or anything else we choose. That way she can’t be used for information.” There was   
universal nodding to Scott’s suggestion. 

“So we are in agreement then. _____ will stay here. Will one of you please invite her in so we can tell her the happy news?”


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

You sat on the bed in your new, small room as emotions ran over your body one by one. Relief. Giddiness. Worry. Curiosity. Confusion. They all seemed to spill over and over in your heart. You were safe, or at least safer than you had been for a long time. You could start a new life with new people. You fell back onto the bed and began to cry a little. The future was so uncertain it was overwhelming, but there was a chance to do something good.   
After a few moments, you sat up and wiped the tears away from your face. Walking over to the tiny en suite bathroom, you washed your face with cool water to try and compose yourself before meeting the rest of the team. Professor Xavier had told you that you would be introduced to the group over dinner, until then, you were to stay in your room unpacking and settling in. Logan had retrieved your bag from the front stoop and delivered it to your room with a grunt and a cold shoulder. He made it pretty obvious that he didn’t trust you, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. You just hoped the rest of the institute didn’t feel the same. 

You went about putting the rest of your belongings away. You hadn’t brought much, and at some point, you would have to go back to your apartment and collect the rest. When that would happen you couldn’t guess. You decided to change into something a bit more professional before dinner in an effort to make a good impression. You slid on a pair of black canvas pants and a green, bell sleeved top. You glanced at the clock on the wall over the door, six forty-five. A convenient knock sounded at the door. You opened it to find Ororo, or Storm, as she told you to call her earlier in the Professor’s office. 

“Hello _____, are you ready to meet everyone?” She smiled kindly at you. You gave a tight smile back. 

“I’m more nervous than ready, but that won’t get any better until I see everyone, right?” Storm nodded and began leading you down the hallway. 

“I think you’ll be fine. Not everyone here is as wary as Logan. You’ll fit right in. Also don’t worry about navigating the manor; you’ll get used to it in no time. If you do get lost, I’m sure no one will mind if you ask for directions.” 

“Oh good. This place is pretty imposing. It took all my guts just to knock on the front door, honestly.” Storm chuckled. 

“I can imagine. Here is the dining room. We asked everyone to gather a little earlier than usual for your introduction so everyone should be here by now.” She pushed open the door to a long table filled with people talking and laughing together. As you both stepped in, the group quieted and turned to you; you felt like you were back in school again. The Professor motioned for you to join him at the head of the table. You stood next to him as he began your introduction. 

“Good evening everyone. I’d like to present a new member of the institute to you, ______. She has come here for protection from Magneto, who, as well as being a threat, is also her father.” Muttering broke out down the table but Xavier pressed on, “Ms. ______ does not have a mutation, which is what makes her a liability to Magneto, and why she needs us so badly. While she is here, Ms. _______ will also be our master chef so expect our meals to become a good deal more exciting as well!” Chuckles rippled down the table. You smiled a little at the levity. Xavier turned to you, “If you’d like to say anything, the floor is yours.” You took a small step forward. 

“Hi, as the Professor said, I’m _______. I understand that my being here is an anomaly so I’d like to encourage you to feel free to ask me any questions you have about myself or my situation. I’d also like to thank you all for allowing me to be here; it really means the world to me. And as far as food goes, if anyone has any favorite dishes or allergies, please let me know so I can figure that into my plans. Um, thank you again.” The group went back to murmuring among themselves once you finished. You took a small step back and looked to the Professor for guidance on what to do next. 

“Feel free to take a seat; I believe there’s a spot between Beast and Gambit.” 

“All right.” You moved toward the seat. The man Xavier had called Gambit noticed and pulled the chair out for you, 

“Here, chére, let me get that for you.” his Cajun drawl slipped over his words like honey. 

“Oh, thank you.” you sat and he pushed your chair in. He sat back down. 

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Remy LeBeau,” he snagged your hand and kissed the back of it quickly, “Also known as Gambit.” 

You felt your face go red at his actions; you had no idea how to react. 

“Oh will you quit scaring the poor girl!” a southern drawl rang out from the other side of Gambit and a gloved hand swatted him across the back of his head. 

“Ow! Chére!” he dropped your hand and turned to the red head sitting to his right. 

“I’m Rogue, honey. You let me know if this swamp rat bothers you any, okay?” 

“A-all right.” You stuttered out a bit. By now, food was coming around and you helped yourself to the dishes being passed your way. At the first taste, you knew the x-men were in desperate need of a cook. The chicken was dry, mashed potatoes were runny,   
and the biscuits were hard as rock. You choked your plate down and pleaded a full stomach when seconds were offered. Throughout dinner, you talked with Scott and Jean who sat across from you and Dr. McCoy to your left. Your tensions eased as conversation continued. As dinner ended, you saw Storm take her dishes as well as the Professor’s through a pair of swing doors. You assumed that would lead to the kitchen, excused yourself from the table, grabbed your dishes, and followed her. 

Stepping into the kitchen, you nearly had a heart attack. Your jaw went slack as you gazed around the large room. It was an industrial kitchen, fitted out with stainless steel and plenty of counter space. There was a large gas range, a grill top, a double oven, a confection oven, a walk in freezer, and a double door fridge. And that’s just what you could see from the doorway. 

“______, are you all right?” Storm’s brow quirked as she spotted you. 

“I’m… I’m fantastic! This kitchen is beautiful! It’s…. It’s perfect!” A wide smile spread itself across your face. Storm began to laugh.

“I’m glad you think so.” Storm continued chuckling as she went back to the dining room. You put your dishes in the industrial sink and skipped over to a closet. You opened it to find aprons and serving dishes as well as waiter’s trays. You slid a plain white   
apron on and grabbed a tray. 

Stepping back into the dining room you began picking up finished dishes, leaving a trail of pleasantly surprised x-men behind you. Once back inside the kitchen, you began doing the dishes. When you packed up your apartment you’d have to be sure to bring the battered pair of speakers you’d had for ages to set up in the kitchen as food was always better when it was made with music and chores like dishwashing always went quicker. For the first time in a while, you felt hopeful for the future. 

Once done with the dishes, you started the coffee maker up with decaf and began to load a tray up with coffee cups and saucers. Backing your way out of the kitchen, you rounded the table asking anyone who was still sitting if they wanted coffee. Most of the older X-men were still sitting around the table talking about the day and any news. The younger kids, led by a girl named Jubilee, seemed to have dispersed throughout the mansion. As you dashed between kitchen and dining room bringing creamer, sugar, and other coffee accessories, you caught bits of conversation. It seemed to range from worries about the Friends of Humanity rallies to the lesson plans for the teenagers. You retrieved the brewed pot of coffee and began filling cups up. 

“I just get the feeling that this big demonstration they’re planning tomorrow is more than just another rally. They’ve been inactive for too long; it makes me uneasy.” You filled Scott’s cup as he spoke. 

“You’re talking about the Friends of Humanity, right?” you spoke up a little. 

“Yes, those bigots.” Scott spat. 

“They’re planning to trash a clinic that gives medical aid to mutants. The rally is a distraction, that way they can claim their organization had nothing to do with the destruction. It makes me sick.” You looked up from filling Jean’s cup to see all eyes on you, 

“Uh, I had to sneak into one of their meetings a couple weeks ago.” The Professor smiled 

“Well, this is very valuable information. We will set up some kind of defense and…” you interrupted, 

“You might not have to, sir. When I find out about things like this, I usually call in an anonymous tip to the police. They get there a little before the hit is supposed to happen and no one gets hurt and sometimes a few Friends of Humanity get thrown in a cell for a night too. Everyone wins.” Again you were greeted with stares. “What? Just because I’m related to Magneto I can’t have common sense?”

There was a second of silence and then Gambit threw back his head and laughed. One by one the others joined in, well except Logan who sat off at the end of the table. 

“I like you, chére! You got a sense of humor!” the group began calming down, the tension in the room completely gone. The Professor finished chuckling and said, 

“You should indeed make that call, but we will still send someone out covertly as a precaution.” You nodded in agreement. Every situation like this had the potential to flame up. 

“There’s a bank of pay phones on the corner of Gunter and Rand that I usually use so the cops can’t trace the call to anyone specific. It’s not too far from my old apartment and I’d like to get some of my things from there too; if that would be all right?” you asked.

“That sounds reasonable. Logan would you like to drive down with _______? She can pack up her apartment and make the call and you can ensure that no one gets hurt at the clinic.” The Professor turned to Logan. 

“And walk right into a trap? No thanks, Charles.” The atmosphere tensed up at Logan’s harsh words, “What? You can’t seriously believe her. She shows up just in time to warn us about this attack. She’s using information she got while spying for Magneto. You think he doesn’t have some plan for tomorrow? She’s sending those police right into the blood bath, like father like daughter.” You set the coffee and tray down on the table slowly and turned toward Logan. 

“You know what my father was going to do about the attack? Nothing.” Your voice was cold and harsh, “He knew that the attack would only help the mutant cause by showing more human on human violence. He wanted the attack to happen so he could gain sympathy. That’s what Magneto had planned. I understand that you don’t trust me, Wolverine. I get it. I’m not asking you to trust me immediately. But do not ever compare me to that monster again.” You turned and walked out, shaking with anger.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 

The group of X-men left in the dining room looked pointedly at Logan. He looked back and growled, 

“You can’t honestly trust her this quickly?!” 

“Well, Logan,” Jean spoke up, “The Professor looked into her mind. She said you can question her about anything. She doesn’t even have full access of the manor. What more do you want?”

“Would Magneto’s head on a pike be too much to ask?”

“Logan!” Jean exclaimed. 

“You all can risk your own lives, but I won’t. She is trouble. For all you know, she could have spiked all your coffee.” He pushed away from the table and stormed out. The other X-men glanced down at their steaming cups. Jean took a defiant swig of her coffee. 

“I, at least, have some faith in her.” She looked to Xavier, “You sense it too, don’t you? How nervous and uncertain she is. She’s probably terrified just being here.” The Professor gave a small, sad smile and sipped at his coffee as well. 

“She is very scared. She’s been tormented for years by Magneto’s agenda. I’m quite surprised that she ran to us, given that we are mutants. She doesn’t even know all our names or our powers; the only time she heard about us was when Magneto or one of his men mentioned us, and I doubt that was in the best light. I understand Logan’s reluctance, but he will not make this process easy for our guest. 

“But really, does he make anything easy for anyone?” Kurt’s comment prompted laughter, “But the girl needs a break. I’m going to go talk to her.” 

“Kurt, just don’t sc…” He disappeared in a puff of sulfur, “...scare her.” Jean shook her head. 

“Well, that fillé is in for a surprise when our blue friend pops in from nowhere. I hope she screams so Gambit can rush in and be the dashing hero! I fit the part, no?” Gambit flexed a bit and dodged another swat from Rogue. “Why must you always wound me,   
chére!?” 

“Because otherwise you’d get yourself into a whole heap of trouble, swamp rat!” Rogue’s voice was exasperated. 

“All right, all right, no one can say Gambit stays where he’s not wanted!” Gambit grinned and swaggered out the door. 

~~~

You stood at the door to your room, about to grab the handle when a POOF and the sharp scent of sulfur assailed your senses. 

“AAAAH!” you raised your arms from the small explosion and closed your eyes. 

“Fräulein _______, please, don’t be afraid.” Kurt’s heavy accent laid thick on the words. You opened your eyes and stumbled back, 

“AAH, oh my god how did you do that geez why would you do that you scared me half to death!” your words raced as fast as your heartbeat and the strange, fuzzy, blue demon in front of you didn’t help you calm down. You had seen a blue mutant, besides Dr. McCoy, at dinner but this was a little up close and personal and sudden. He took a step back from your personal bubble and held up three-fingered hands, 

“Hey, hey, hey, I am sorry I frightened you. I just wanted to come see how you were doing and introduce myself. I am Kurt Wagner; it is a pleasure!” he gave a funny little bow and held out a hand. You stared at his strange three-fingered hand for a moment, a bit gobsmacked. You slowly took his hand to shake but continually stared at his features. 

“I… uhh, I’m sorry for staring, but, I’ve, umm, never seen anyone like you.” You couldn’t keep the shock out of your voice. Kurt laughed, 

“Most people haven’t. I guarantee that this is all real though; you can even touch my ears if you want.” 

“Wait, really? You wouldn’t mind?” 

“Not at all, here…” he grabbed your hand and brought it up to the tips of his ears. You carefully ran a finger over them. 

“Oh my god… oh my god! They-they’re real. Well, I mean, of course they’re real. You’re real, but, just...wow!” Kurt threw his head back and laughed. 

“Oh fräulein ________, I’ve not had a reaction this good in a very long time! The others all thought I’d scare you away! And look at you now!” 

“Well you did terrify me! Do you normally poof out of nowhere?” This only made him laugh harder. 

“Well, yes. It’s part of my abilities. My ‘poofing’ is pretty useful actually.” 

“Just, maybe give me some warning next time then.” 

“No promises frau, I like being sneaky. But I did come here to tell you something. Logan is a very suspicious person. He doesn’t trust anyone right away. I know he just seems like an arsch right now, but he’s doing what he thinks is needed to protect us. Please, just be patient with him.” you leaned against your door heavily. 

“I don’t blame him; I really don’t. I know I’m a threat; I’m pretty much a target painted on the Institute, and I feel guilty over that. But I’m not my father. My being here should be enough to prove that, right? The fact that I don’t hide behind a metal helmet   
should be enough to prove that. It’s just frustrating to be under that shadow.” Kurt looked seriously at you and a shadow passed over his face. He put a hand on your shoulder, 

“I understand how you feel more than you know. It will get better.” He smiled and his pointed teeth peaked out a bit. 

“Thank you, Kurt. It’s been quite a day for me, and I need to get up early to make breakfast tomorrow, so I’ll be turning in, okay?” 

“Yes, of course. Gute nacht, fräulien _________!” he began walking backward down the hall. 

“Night, Kurt!” you waved and jumped a bit as he poofed away. You turned the knob to your room and disappeared inside. 

~~~

Kurt poofed into the rec room. Gambit was working on his billiards trick shots. 

“So, how’d your little meeting with da fillé go? Did she run, screaming in fear?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you? The fraus love blue. She even touched my ears.” Kurt’s smug voice sparked Gambit’s attention. 

“Well, well. She’ll get along fine here then, don’t you agree, mon ami?” Kurt nodded, “She’ll get on just fine.” Gambit took a precise shot knocking three balls into three different pockets.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Your phone alarm went off at six in the morning and you groaned and rolled to the side. Cracking your eyes open, you peered at the room around you. You bolted up in fear before remembering yesterday. You were safe. You were at the Xavier Institute. And you had to go make breakfast. 

You slid, sleepily, out of bed and opened your closet. You grabbed a pair of old jeans and a torn up t-shirt as well as your shower kit and disappeared into the small bathroom attached to your room. A half hour later, you were in the kitchen earbuds in, apron on, griddle warm. You pulled out massive amounts of ingredients. Three dozen eggs, four packs of bacon, jugs upon jugs of orange juice and milk, bags of flour, boxes of butter, it would be a huge breakfast. You got down to business, music pushing you along. You planned on a nice, home-style pancake breakfast, eggs and bacon on the side, some fresh fruit; that was sure to win over some hearts. Besides, it was a Saturday morning. You had the griddle getting hot, the pot of scrambled eggs was going fine, the bacon sizzled, and the pancake batter was almost ready. There was a moment of calm and you rushed to get large serving dishes and line them up on one counter top. You mixed the eggs more, making sure they wouldn’t burn and began ladling pancake-sized dollops of batter onto the griddle. As everything, bubbled, sizzled, and popped, you began chopping up cantaloupe and strawberries, mixing them in a large glass bowl with blueberries and blackberries. You flipped the pancakes to see lovely golden brown tops and stirred the eggs adding cream and cheddar cheese to the mixture. You got a two pots of coffee going and began setting the large dining table out buffet style. The smells pouring from the kitchen wound their way up and out, wafting gently to the other rooms where some were still asleep, and some were just coming awake. It was about ten o’clock when the first group of groggy, curious hopefuls wandered into the dining room. Beast was the one who actually came into the kitchen, too hungry and curious to stay seated in the dining room. 

“My word! I haven’t smelt something so delicious coming from this kitchen in I don’t know how long!” McCoy’s grin spread from ear to ear as he saw all the food being dished onto serving platters. Spotting him as he walked in (it was rather hard not to), you   
paused your music and grinned, 

“Good morning, Doctor. Breakfast will be out in just a few minutes if you’d like to sit down.”

“I’d prefer to help you bring some of these things out. If you’d like the assistance, that is.” 

“That’s very kind of you! If you could grab that bowl of fruit and go put it on the table that would be great.” 

“No problem at all.” Beast grabbed the bowl and exited. As he rejoined the group in the dining room, he placed the fruit down and turned to the curious faces, “There is no love sincerer than the love of food, George Bernard Shaw.” And with that quote, he disappeared again into the kitchen. A few moments later, he came out with a dish of eggs, the third trip he had pitchers of milk and orange juice, and on the fourth a plate of bacon; fifth he had a jug of syrup, coffee creamers, sugar, whipped cream, and a dish of chocolate chips. Once all of this was placed on the table, McCoy left the dining room and called out with a wonderful, booming voice, 

“BREAKFAST!” 

People began filing into the dining room, pouring themselves drinks and looking at the array of food, until finally, you pushed though the swing doors and arrived with a steaming, golden tray of perfect pancakes. The crowd grew quiet as you placed the food in the middle of the table and stepped back. You realized that all eyes were on you, and you suddenly grew nervous. What if this was wrong? What if it was too early? Why wouldn’t they just eat? In an act of saving grace, the Professor, still clad in striped pajamas, slippers, and a robe, cleared his throat, 

“Ms. _______ this is a stunning breakfast you’ve prepared; may we begin eating?” 

“Oh, yes! Yes, please, dig in!” you blushed as you realized everyone had been looking at you for permission, not malice. A frenzy of movement ensued, everyone scrambled for a plate of deliciousness. You dashed back to the kitchen to bring out the coffee and   
began pouring cups around the table. You reached Kurt, and, in an act of melodrama, he topped out of his chair, to his knees, and shouted above the chatter, 

“You are a gift from Gott, fräulien! A gift from Gott! And I should know, I lived in a monastery for a very long time.” The people paying attention to Kurt’s antics laughed and you giggled and blushed at his complement. He clambered back into his chair and continued eating. You moved on around the table trading good mornings, filling mugs, and being showered in complements. You finally reached the Professor. 

“Thank you for all of this, Ms. ______. Now I think you should sit down and eat. Enjoy the meal you’ve prepared.” You smiled, nodded, and turned to place the coffee pot on a pot holder when a chill seemed to ripple through the room. Conversation got quieter and eyes slid down at plates as Logan walked into the room. He took a seat at the opposite end of the table, propped his boots up, and opened the morning paper. Grabbing the pot again, you took a deep breath and walked over to him. 

“Good morning, Wolverine.” He didn’t answer, “Would you like some coffee?” His icy gaze shifted from the paper to you,

“No.” he grunted. 

There was a thick moment of silence and you slid away from the brooding figure. Conversation slowly began to start up again and Gambit motioned you over, pulling out a chair for you to sit. 

“Here, chére. Just ignore the brute, come sit next to Gambit.” He flashed you a wicked smile and you chuckled a bit. 

“Thanks.” You poured yourself a cup of coffee and sweetened it to perfection. Taking a long sip, you sighed, “I’ll just have to try harder.” 

“Harder at what, Fräulien?” Kurt sat on your other side. 

“Proving to Wolverine that I’m not some spy sent to destroy you all.” You wiggled your fingers and made a face and the two men chuckled. 

“You really just have to ignore him. He hates everyone when they’re new.” A friendly looking girl from across the table piped up, “I’m Kitty Pryde by the way. I can phase through things like this.” She stuck her hand through a jug of orange juice to snatch a   
piece of bacon from Kurt’s plate. 

“Hey!” he cried indignantly, while you sat there marveling over Kitty’s power. 

“Wait, so you can do that with your whole body, right? Like you can walk through walls and stuff?” 

“Yup! It’s great for sneaking into movies.” She smirked a bit and you laughed. 

“I bet it is!”   
Kurt continued to grumble about the bacon as Kitty bit into it. You continued to make small talk with Gambit, Kurt, Kitty, and Rogue (she was sitting across from Gambit). Until Kitty turned to you and asked, 

“So, you said you wouldn’t mind if we asked you questions right? Like, about your family and stuff?”

“Kitty, do you really think now is the best time…” Rogue tried to curtail Kitty’s questions but you cut in, 

“Now’s as good a time as any. Ask away.” You leaned back and took a few sips of coffee to prepare. 

“Where did you live before you came here?” the first question was innocent enough. 

“A cramped apartment on Bently Avenue.” 

“Did you work?” 

“Yes, I was a sales clerk and had a waitressing gig, both part time.”

“Why’d you quit?” 

“Magneto’s guys began harassing me at work.” 

“Which guys?” 

“Toad and Blob; Avalanche if there was a message attached to the visit. Pietro, if I was really unlucky. None of the big leagues.” 

“You ever have trouble with the big guys?” 

“Only once.” You gulped down a hard breath, “I gave Magneto some false information. He sent Sabretooth after me. He gave me this to remind me just how human I was.” You pulled the collar of your shirt to the side a bit to show a thin, white scar running from your left shoulder to your sternum. In a shaky voice you continued, “I’m just glad his claws are sharp because, it healed pretty well. Most people don’t really notice it.” The faces around you were drawn sharp with anger and concern. At the end of the table, Wolverine’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. 

“Oh, _____, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked…” Kitty’s voice was full of regret but you stopped her. 

“I said you could ask me anything. Do I have a nice story? No. But you all deserve to know. It’s fine; I promise. Anything else you’re wondering about?” 

“Well…” Kitty bit her lip, “What about your mother?” You took a deep sip of coffee and rubbed at your eyes for a moment. 

“Mom was… great. She could deal with anything from rude neighbors to the IRS. The only thing she couldn’t handle was Magneto. Whenever he showed up, she just shrank, like an ant slowly being fried with a magnifying glass. He’d drop in to ‘check on my   
progress’, as he called it, and she just crumpled at his every order. I think some small part of her still loved him, but she also knew how terribly, terribly dangerous he was, and it tore her to bits. She passed away about three years ago from a heart attack; I think the stress of the whole situation got to her. In a way, it’s better. She’s free from him now.” 

The table went silent. Somehow, the whole room had begun listening to your story. You couldn’t blame them, “Does anyone else have a question?” a younger girl piped up, 

“Well, this isn’t as dramatic as the other questions, but where did you learn to cook so well?” you smiled a bit in relief. 

“I always liked cooking, and I took a year and a bit of culinary school before everything fell apart. It’s kind of a gift, I suppose. And actually, speaking of which, it looks like a dirty kitchen is calling to me. If you’re finished with breakfast, place your silverware on your plates and I’ll be around to collect them in a minute.” You stood and began stacking dishes. 

“Oh, Ms. ______, you don’t need to do that! Let us help you clean up. It’s the least we could do after a breakfast like this.” Jean stood to help until you waved her off. 

“Let me feel like I’m earning my keep. I’m glad to do it, honestly. You all enjoy yourselves.” You grabbed a pile of dishes and smiled at the table as you walked toward the kitchen. As you made trips between kitchen and dining room you made chit-chat with   
other X-men. Some gave condolences but you brushed them away, insisting that you didn’t want to dwell on the past. You reached the end of the table where Logan was sitting. You didn’t quite know what to say so you simply stayed silent, though you could feel his eyes on your back as you gathered dishes up. 

You got into a rhythm while cleaning the kitchen and eventually everything was sparkling. Your back ached, you were sweating, and you were thanking heaven for the industrial dishwasher. It had taken a good hour or so but the kitchen was beautiful again. You double checked the dining room to see that everything had been put away and cleaned. Everyone had scattered to look into their individual interests, and the halls were quiet. You walked down the hall to your room. You rounded a corner and found Wolverine leaning against the wall by your door. There was a moment of silence. 

“Pretty touching story you told at breakfast, but you see, one thing doesn’t sit right with me. Sabretooth doesn’t just cut skin; he tears. It’s easier with his claws. Ya see, I’ve fought with him enough to know that. So where did you actually get that scar?” Logan kept his head down as he talked, only looking you in the face during his last question. You took a shaky breath in. 

“It wasn’t exactly open season. Sabretooth had instructions not to damage me too much. The cut had to look like a knife wound not an animal mauling. There couldn’t be any connection to mutants. Look at the scar if you want; besides that, I don’t have much other proof.” You pulled your collar aside again. Logan leaned in; his calculated gazed tracing the scar, taking in the minute pulls and tears in the healed over flesh. It matched a few cuts he’d gotten from Sabretooth. His nose twitched. A breath of panic   
pheromones wafted up from your skin. He pulled back. 

“You’re scared of me.” He said. 

“Yes. You don’t like me, I’m a potential threat to you, and I'm baring my throat to someone with seven inch razors in their arms. I think a little fear is reasonable. Besides, the last time I was this close to someone with your kind of built-in weaponry, I woke up in a hospital with a cut across my chest.” 

“How did he do it?” Logan’s question took you by surprise, “How did he cut you?” 

“He was waiting in my apartment until I got back from work. He pinned me against a wall with one hand against my throat while the other cut. I didn’t even have enough time to scream.” Your hands were trembling, and you balled them into fists to stop the   
shaking. It didn’t work. Logan could see the state you were in. 

“You keep one thing in mind: I’m not like that cowardly son-of-a-bitch. If I’m ever after you, you’ll know and you’ll have a chance to fight back. I don’t get kicks out of beating up girls. But let’s get one thing straight: if you betray us, I will come for you.” He locked eyes with you; you held his gaze. 

“I would expect nothing less.” Wolverine nodded and walked away. You reached trembling hands out to the door and entered your room. Once inside, you slowly closed the door and sat on the ground. You’re head fell into your hands and you began to cry.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 

“That was a little excessive don’t you think, mon ami?” Gambit piped up as Logan walked past him loitering in the hall. 

“Is it any of your business, Cajun?” 

“Well it’s come to my attention that you’ve been nothing but harsh toward la fille, and she’s been nothing but wonderful.” 

“You know as well as I do that she could be dangerous. Her sob story shouldn’t be trusted right away.” 

“That may be so, but I also know how it feels to escape from a famille who only ever used you. She’s terrified of us, Logan. Why make that worse?” Logan just grunted and walked away. Gambit rolled his eyes and sighed. He strolled down the hall to knock on your door. 

“Chére, It’s Gambit.” 

You panicked slightly at the knocking. You wiped the tears from your face and tried to take a few deep breaths. 

“J-Just a minute!” you called out as you calmed yourself down. In a few moments you were more in control, and you opened the door. Gambit was leaning against the doorjamb casually shuffling a deck of cards. “Hello, did you need something?” Gambit’s eyes flicked to your still slightly red ones, and his jaw set for a moment. But a split second later he was all charm. 

“Well madame, I was thinking you might want a tour of the Institute. I’d be very happy to show you around; if you’d like.” He grinned at you, and you smiled back. 

“Actually, I need to talk to Professor Xavier about some things for the kitchen. Would you mind helping me find him?” 

“It would be my pleasure, chére!” he turned and held out an arm. You took it with a chuckle and he began leading you down the hall, “So what do you have to say to the Professor?” 

“Just some things about the kitchen, how many meals a day, what time each meal should be, the amount of people I should expect. Just those kind of things. I’m also wondering about when I’ll be able to clean out my apartment. I don’t have much there but there are a few things I’d like. And I’d like to leave a note for my landlord.” 

“I’m sure the Professor will have all your answers; he usually does. And if you need any help packing up, I’m sure plenty of people will be willing.” 

“Really? That’s so nice! I don’t have much but I could use maybe one or two people. I don’t want to be there for very long, in case someone shows up.” 

“You mean the brotherhood?”

“Yeah, or worse.” 

“All the more reason for you to bring some of us.” 

“No because then they’ll know I’m hiding here. I don’t want to bring trouble; I’d prefer to just be covert.” 

“Ahh, I suppose that makes sense. Just remember, you came to us for protection; let us do our job.” You smiled at him. 

“Thanks, Gambit.” 

“Please, chére, call me Remy.” He winked at you, and you giggled. 

“Alright, thank you, Remy.” He motioned to the large wooden double doors that you had arrived at. 

“We’re here, chére. I’ll see you a little later, alright?” 

“Alright, I’ll see you later. And thanks for showing me the way!” 

“No problem, chére!” Gambit threw his hand up in a wave as he walked away. You turned to knock at the door when Xavier’s voice echoed in your head,

‘Do come in, Ms. __________.’ You jumped and timidly opened the door. 

Charles was sitting behind his large desk writing out something on a sheaf of paper. He glanced up and smiled at you. 

“Hello! I take it you have some questions for me. Come sit down, and we shall discuss them.” You closed the door behind you and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. 

“Well sir…”

“Please, call me Professor.”

“Oh, alright. Professor, I was hoping to figure out a few things about how the Institute operates. How many meals a day are usual? What times? How many people? Those kind of things.” 

“Of course, of course. Here, would you like some paper and a pen? I feel we might go through quite a bit of information.” He offered said objects to you; you gratefully took them, “Now, to start there are roughly twenty X-men on the premise on any particular day, although that number is fluid as many of us adults have lives outside the Institute and sometimes we take on new members or have visitors. If we have a change I will try to let you know ahead of time. As for meals, I would suggest two full meals and a half meal. You of course would have the freedom to choose which is which, perhaps during the school year the breakfast and dinner are full meals and lunch is light as our younger students would be attending classes during the day. You could design the schedule any way that would appeal but I would ask that you let me know. Does that seem reasonable?” you scribbled furiously for a moment and smiled widely. 

“That seems perfect, Professor.” 

“Wonderful. I think for times, breakfast should be around seven during the school year, lunch perhaps around noon, and dinner around seven. These times can be flexed slightly if there are any issues we find. What else are you curious about?”

You two talked about meal plans, groceries, portions, allergies, and other miscellaneous food topics until your paper was completely full of scribbled notes and your head was empty of questions, except for one, that is. 

“Professor, I do still need to clean out my apartment. I know I was supposed to go tonight, but I’m not really sure where that stands at the moment.” He laced his fingers together and rested his chin upon them,

“Yes, I think you will still go today. I will send you and Ororo with one of our larger cars. I still want you calling in the tip to the police as well. Wolverine will be sent separately directly to the clinic, you will make the call and empty your apartment. The rally is scheduled to begin at 6:30. Do you know if the attack is supposed to happen then or later?” 

“I believe the attack is supposed to happen around 7 so the alibi holds.” The Professor nodded. 

“Alright, I will send you and Ororo down at 5 so you may begin packing. I know this puts you in a rush for dinner, but perhaps something light is in order after that wonderful breakfast.” 

“That’s fine. I know what I’ll do.” You stood to leave, “Thank you again, Professor. For everything.” 

“Of course, Ms. _______. I feel you will be right at home here.” 

~~~

After an hour or so of making sandwiches, slicing them up, and displaying them favorably for anyone to eat. You and Storm were on your way into town. You had stopped at a hardware store for cardboard boxes, markers, and tape; you were finally moving out of your old life. The Institute was permanent now. Storm parked the car around a corner, next to a bus stop, at your direction. She moved to get out of the car but you held her back. 

“As much as I’d love the help, I can’t risk the Brotherhood or anyone else seeing us together. I’m hoping to simply disappear without them ever knowing, but I never know who’s been lurking around.” Storm sat back down in the driver’s seat.

“Alright. I understand. But you’ll bring the boxes down to the bus stop and I’ll load them in the car as long as no one’s there?” 

“Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you.” You slipped out of the passenger side with the supplies in hand. 

As you looked around the tiny apartment a wave of nostalgia washed over you. This was where you had survived. There were many sad memories, but there were nice ones too. Cozy evenings, good books, music playing, cooking something wonderful in the itty bitty kitchenette, it was all there. You unfolded one of the boxes and began packing up. You were lucky that you didn’t have much that couldn’t be replaced. You began stripping down your bed, folding clothes, taking down books. The boxes began to fill up. A little before seven, you walked down the block to the bank of phones and made the call. You kept it vague, you had seen some men walking down the street toward the clinic talking about “teaching some people a lesson”. They had baseball bats and tire irons and looked threatening. You were a concerned citizen worried about the free clinic. In twenty minutes, you were back to packing. 

You were taping up one of the boxes labeled ‘clothes’ as a familiar breeze blew past you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and you could feel your heart beat quicken. He was here. You turned to your bare mattress and saw him sitting on it, smirking, calmly looking around your almost empty room. 

Pietro. 

“Hey little sister, where do you think you’re going?” his voice was light but full of malice. You continued taping up the box but didn’t turn away from him. 

“I’m leaving.” Your voice was measured and calm. You would not let him know how scared you were. 

“And why didn’t you tell your dear brother about this?” 

“Don’t kid yourself, Pietro. I’m leaving all of you behind. I will no longer be part of your chaos.” 

“The thing is, sis, you don’t really have a choice. Now answer the question: where are you going?” his voice lost its light façade. 

“I’m getting away.” 

 

In a split second, you were slammed against the opposite wall, Pietro’s hand at your throat and your head spinning. Pietro’s face was glaring into yours. He whispered through gritted teeth, 

“Wrong answer.” you clawed at his wrist, desperately trying to loosen his grip. You gagged and gasped trying to get air. 

“P-P-Pi-et-ro.” He removed his hand and you fell to the ground coughing and gasping. 

“Now let’s try this again shall we?” He grabbed your hair and hauled your face up to look at him, “Where… are… you… going?” 

“You, you’re bored, right, Pietro?” you said between gasps, “I’ve got a… game… for you.” His brows twitched, betraying his interest. “Hide-and-go-seek. You give me one month to get as far away as possible. Then you try to find me. It should be easy with   
your speed.” You could see the cogs turning in his head. He had always been desperate for a distraction, this was like dangling a steak in front of a hungry tiger. He dropped your hair and began pacing, 

“A month is too long. You have three days.” You pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“That would be no fun, I’d scarcely get out of the country. I need at least three weeks.” 

“Too long, a week.” 

“Fifteen days.” 

“Ten days. You get ten days, or I tell Daddy what you’re up too. He might get angry enough to send a friend over to give you a little talking to again. And I imagine he’ll leave you with more than a scar this time.” He traced the path Sabretooth left on you across his own collarbone to make perfectly clear what he was talking about. 

“Ten days then. Come try to find me in ten days.” 

“Deal, little sister, deal.” 

 

And he was gone in an instant.


	6. Chaptr

CHAPTER 6

You shakily pushed yourself up from the floor. Using the wall to steady yourself, you made your way to the sink and drank a glass of water. Most of it spilled, given how badly you were shaking. After a few breaths, you organized your thoughts. You put the letter you’d written to your landlord on the kitchen table, stacked your boxes by the door, and gathered anything you really couldn’t leave behind. You brought the last couple boxes down as quickly as you could. You would never be back for the other things in the apartment.

Out on the pavement, Ororo could tell immediately that something was wrong. You wrenched the trunk open and began loading the last few boxes.

“Don’t! Don’t get out of the car. Please. You need to stay there. Let me get these, and then we need to go.” You piled the last box in, “Start the car. Please, we need to go.” You rounded the car and got into the front while Storm started the engine.

“What happened?! You’re shaking!”

“Drive! DRIVE. Please. I’m sorry. We need to go.” Your hysteria took over; you began crying and hyperventilating. Storm pealed out of the parking spot and down the street.

“Breathe! Breathe, ______. Come on, breathe with me: in… and out… in…and out.” Storm continued talking while she drove, desperate to calm you down. It helped a bit. You continued to cry but your breathing became more regular. About halfway through the drive you managed to mutter one word that cleared up at least a few of Storm’s questions.

“Pietro.” After a few moments of silence Ororo began to plan,

“We will talk with the professor as soon as we get back. Don’t worry; we will find out what he wants. We will protect you.”

~~~

The moment the car pulled into the garage both you and Storm bolted from it, not even bothering to close the doors behind you. You ran directly to Xavier’s office. He was talking with Jean, Scott, and McCoy when you burst in.

“Professor, I need you to kill me.”

 

Several mouths dropped open and eyes widened at the shocking sentence you’d just uttered.

“I, I should rephrase that. I need you to make it look like I’ve died. Records, certificates, funeral we need it all faked.”

“Ms. _________, you need to slow down. What has happened?” Xavier motioned you to sit in a chair. You did and began to explain,

“As I was cleaning out my apartment, Pietro showed up. I told him I was leaving, just moving away and he didn’t like it. I managed to buy myself ten days to get away, but I don’t trust him. He might start looking now. The one way to throw him off is to cut off my trail completely. I could die in an accident, maybe in a taxi or something, and it would look just like I was running. He’d have no reason to continue searching.”

Xavier rubbed his forehead for a minute, thinking over the idea.

“I must say, the plan does seem like it would be effective. But you have to understand, if we do this you can never contact anyone from your old life again. You will more or less be trapped in the Institute.”

“It’s better than being puppet for Magneto or bringing trouble here. I really think this might be the only way, and we don’t have much time. We need to get started now.”  
Xavier nodded, “I can see the urgency. Fortunately, we have someone here who will be able to help us.” At that moment a knock sounded at the door, “Please enter.” A teenage boy entered the room looking slightly worried,

“You wanted to see me Professor?”

“Indeed I did. Ms._________, this is our resident technovore, Forge. He’s going to help us take care of your electronic trail.”

As the situation was explained to Forge, you sat in your chair and tried to order your thoughts. Ororo had brought you a cup of water. Jean was sitting by you and holding your hand. Scott had offered to bring your boxes to your room. McCoy was pacing with a pen and pad of paper, trying to think of all the things required to fake a death. You couldn’t really decide what to feel. It was almost like going numb. So much was changing; it was like nothing was in your control anymore. You focused on just breathing for a bit.

“__________.” You looked up when the Professor called your name, “Forge will have to go through a lot of details with you. He needs all your information to properly fake the records.”

“Oh, yes.” You stood and followed the teen out of the office. Everyone left in the room tossed each other glances. No one was quite ready to voice their worries yet. And then, in walked Wolverine.

“Did someone die or something? You all look like hell. And where’s the girl going with Forge?” Looks were passed around again until Jean started explaining the situation to Logan. Logan sat for a moment, taking in all the details, “Okay.” He stood and left.

~~~

You had spent two hours going through information with Forge. Now you were just laying on your bed staring up at the ceiling. You were surrounded by boxes. Scott had been kind enough to bring them all in for you, but now they seemed to be a cage. You were so exhausted; you couldn’t even cry anymore.

A gentle knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.” you called gently, and Rogue stepped into your room.

“Hey Sugar, how are you holding up?” she came to sit on the edge of your bed.

“I’m struggling, Rogue. Everything I know, it’s just… gone.”

“I know how you feel, hun. But you will get through this. We all did.” You looked at her questioningly, “Almost all of us had a rough transition when we realized our mutation. A lot of us had to burn bridges so we’ll all support you the best we can.”

“Thanks, Rogue. Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s your mutation?”

A shadow passed over her face and she sighed. “You ever wonder about why I’m always wearing gloves?” you nod, “Well, it’s because if I touched you, skin to skin, I could put you in a coma.” Your eyes widened, “And not just that, but I’d have your memories, abilities, bits of your personality sometimes, skills: I take in what makes you, you. The longer I touch someone the more of them I get and the more life force is taken from them. When I’m forced to use my mutation, I try to just take enough to knock someone out but there are always accidents.” Your mouth was hanging open.

“Oh my god. Is there any way to stop it? Power down?”

“Not really. Although the Professor is trying to develop a device; so far no success though.” You sat up from the bed and reached out for her gloved hand. You held it firmly. She glanced at you and raised her eyebrows.

“He will find a way. If there’s one thing I can tell about the Professor and everyone else here, it’s that they will do whatever they can. I’m sure they’ll find a way. And if I can ever help, just ask, okay?” Rogue looked at your determined face and grinned,

“Well thanks, Sugar! I’m glad you can already tell that we look out for each other. If it helps any, you are gaining all of us as friends and family. Now you look pretty exhausted, so I think you need to get some shut eye.” As if on cue, you yawned.

“Yeah you’re right. I’ll see you in the morning.” Rogue got up to leave, “Oh, and Rogue?” she turned, “Thank you for talking with me. For being here.” She smiled sweetly,

“Of course, Sugar. My pleasure.”

Rogue shut the door behind her and you rolled over on the bed, too tired to even change into sleep clothes. In no time at all, you were deeply asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

You woke up groggy the next morning. It was six o’clock and as much as you wanted to simply roll over and snooze, you had to get breakfast going. You blearily got out of bed and washed up in your bathroom, not bothering to change out of your two day old clothes just yet. You stumbled your way to the kitchen and began chopping up fruit. You turned the griddle on and buttered it down, throwing a loaf and a half of bread down to begin toasting. You brought out jugs of milk and orange juice, and you started the coffee pots perking. You got the fruit salad into a bowl and set it out on the table along with the drinks, and trays of plates and glasses. Back in the kitchen you flipped the bread, happy to see it golden brown on the other side. As it toasted, you gathered up plates of butter and pots of jam and placed them out on the table. Finally, you scooped the toast off the griddle and arranged them nicely onto a platter. Placing the toast in the middle of the table, it was done. And it was only a few minutes after seven, making you practically on time. You left a note telling everyone to dig in and climbed the stairs once again to your room. 

You were severely tempted to crawl back into bed and sleep for another five hours but you knew you shouldn’t. You picked out a fresh set of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom to take a long needed shower. It felt heavenly. You let the hot water relax your muscles and ease your nerves. After ten extra minutes of just standing in the blissful heat, you stepped out and dried off. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assessing yourself. You were still stressed, tired, and a little bruised up, but by god, you were going to look cute today. You put on something comfortable and a little bit of makeup. When you were satisfied you finally exited the bathroom, feeling at least a little better.

You faced your room. It was a maze of boxes holding everything you owned. You dug in one labeled “Electronics” and pulled out an Ipod dock. Plugging it into the wall, you got a playlist ready and started the music. As the music floated around the room, you began to unpack. You started with clothes as it would be easiest. You got through a box and a half before the first knock at the door sounded. You extracted yourself from the midst of the chaos of the room and opened the door. 

“Yes?” you opened the door to see Kitty and Kurt. 

“Hi!” Kitty’s voice was bubbly, “We missed you at breakfast, it was great by the way, and we figured we might see what you were up to.” 

“Oh, well I’m just trying to get unpacked.” Kurt piped up,

“Do you want any help?” 

“Uh, that would be really great actually.” You opened the door a little wider and stepped back to let them inside. You walked to the speakers and turned the music down a bit, “So right now I’m just trying to get all my clothes hung up, folded, and put away.” You continued explaining where to put certain kinds of clothes and Kitty got going. You directed Kurt over to a box full of a disassembled vanity from Ikea. You had bought it a month before coming to the Institute and had never had time to assemble it. He   
began unfolding directions and looking through the box. 

Sitting down beside Kitty you continued to pull out clothes and put them away. Every now and again Kitty would exclaim at a cute top or compliment a pair of shoes. 

“Seriously though, _______, I’m going to raid your closet one day. You have some killer stuff!” You chuckled at Kitty’s excitement. 

“I just ask that you check with me before taking anything, okay?” 

“Wait, seriously!?” Kitty’s face lit up. You shrugged, 

“Sure. I don’t mind.” 

“Oh my god, you’re the best!” she lunged and caught you in a hug. You just patted her back. She sprang up and had even more vigor for the task at hand. You glanced over at Kurt. 

“How are you doing?” 

“I’m getting there, fräulein. Although these instructions are still confusing, even if they do have a German translation.” He had the instructions carefully speared on the tip of his tail as he wrestled with different slats of wood. The table seemed about half done. 

“Do you want any help?” you took a step toward him, but he waved you off. 

“Don’t you worry, I’ll get this done. You work on something else.” You shrugged and started digging though more boxes. You pulled out the old set of speakers that you would set up in the kitchen along with a couple cook books and a recipe block full of old   
favorites. Glancing at the clock, you started a little. It was almost ten and you needed to get lunch started. 

“Hey guys, I need to bring this stuff down and start on lunch. You can feel free to keep working if you want, but you don’t have to.” Kitty looked up from a top, 

“You go ahead, we’ll finish up here. Besides, Kurt’s getting his ass kicked over there.” You both giggled as Kurt grumbled about it being harder than it looked. You grabbed your Ipod and told the two that they could plug in music if they wanted too. Gathering your things up, you started down the hall towards the stairs. 

You reached the kitchen and put your things down. As you sorted things out and set up the speakers, you thought about what would be good for lunch. Plugging your music in, you began cooking. 

~~~

After lunch, you started down the hall to get back to unpacking your room. You saw Logan leaning against the wall a bit. You ducked your head trying to avoid his gaze. As you got nearer, he pushed off the wall, effectively blocking your path. You ran a hand through your hair. 

“Hi, Logan. What can I do for you?” his eyes burned down at you. 

“What happened to your neck?” your fingers ghosted over the bruises Pietro had left. You shrugged. 

“Pietro likes to talk with his hands.” His eyes narrowed slightly. 

“Well we’re not gonna let him… ‘talk’ to you again. You know that, right?” You looked up, a little stunned, “Thank you.” He grunted and walked away from you down the hall. As you continued toward your room a small smile spread across your face. Maybe you   
were making some headway with the stubborn man. 

In a couple hours, your room was more or less set up. It finally began to feel a bit like home. You were just fitting some old books onto the small bookcase when a knock sounded at the door. You opened it to see Forge and Ororo standing there. 

“Hello. Is there something wrong?” your nerves were back. 

“No, no. We just wanted to show you the official report of your death before it goes out tomorrow. If there’s anything that needs to be changed, anything that might tip Pietro or your father off, we need to know now.” Storm’s voice was hesitant. It was obvious this made her uncomfortable. You’re stomach flipped a bit, but you set your jaw and nodded at them.

“Lead the way.” 

You were taken to the Professor’s study and sat at a computer. A newspaper article was on the screen. It read a tale of the young woman in a tragic car accident. A taxi had come to take her to the airport, and it was hit by a drunk driver running though a red light. It listed your name and age. The article was short and sweet, as it should be. Though you couldn’t stop staring at it. Storm began to explain,

“We’ve managed to set up a ‘cremation’ and a burial with some connections we can trust. We also managed to get most of your savings out of your accounts, though we did have to make some withdrawals to cover the plane ticket, and the funereal services. They will show up at the right times as well. Your documented will states that you left your belongings to several charities and nonprofits. They will get anything left in your apartment but will register that they received everything you owned. We also cannot have you using the same email, or online information so Forge has created a new online identity for you.” He slid a manila envelope over to you, “And of course you cannot use the same cell phone. We went to the liberty of getting you the next generation of the one you have now. We will have to destroy your old one though. Can you think of anything we’ve missed, or that would stick out to your family?” you shook your head slowly. 

“I can’t see anything that would tip them off.” 

“Good, then Forge will get it into the system,” he stepped to the keyboard and began typing, “And you can start to breathe a little easier now.”


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 

You woke up the next morning with the strange knowledge that you were dead. Anyone from your old life who would bother to look you up would find an obituary. All you had was this house. You moved through your morning duties like a ghost, and in a way, you were. The X-men seemed to sense your state and give you room. You couldn’t quite focus on conversation and you barely ate anything. The toast was a little burned and the eggs were slightly runny that morning, but no one decided to comment.   
After everyone had eaten you went around and collected dirty dishes. A few people offered to help you clean up but you rejected them. As you began to wash in the kitchen the tears came again. You didn’t really try to hold back. You felt empty. You were gone. Your identity had been scooped up and sucked out and you felt like you didn’t know yourself anymore. You continued washing dishes. By the time the kitchen was spotless, you had run out of tears and had moved on to hiccupping every now and then. You needed to do something to get your mind off everything that had been going on. 

You looked around the kitchen and began leafing through an old recipe book. As you looked, your eyes landed upon an old recipe for cinnamon rolls that your mother had made on special occasions. You began to gather ingredients. You turned on your speakers on and Indi-folk music filled the kitchen. She’d always loved music like this. You could already feel your spirits lifting. You began mixing together the dough. As you let the yeast rise, you took a couple spins around the kitchen. You had a bit of time so you decided to work on a few more projects. You started water boiling for sweet tea, and began gathering ingredients for a large chocolate cake. It would be nice to bring it out after dinner as a thank you to Xavier and the X-men. 

As you flipped between the three projects you began to feel more and more yourself. The fast banjos and rough voices had your steps becoming more and more like dancing. The sweet tea was chilling, the rolls were baking and the cake was cooling as you worked on the frosting and the icing in two different mixers. Phrases of lyrics flew from your lips as you spun to get more powdered sugar and vanilla. 

The music floated out of the kitchen and out to the hall outside. As people walked past, snatches of songs caught their ears and smells of baking chocolate and cinnamon teased their noses. Jean and Scott caught the scents and songs on the air as they walked by. Jean’s brow furrowed, 

“That poor thing, she’s just lost everything. I wish we could do something for her.” 

“Well, this has all happened so quickly, we barely know her. And she’s going to be different anyway, without having a mutation and all.” Scott shrugged, “We usually try to teach new students how to control their powers but…” as Scott trailed off Jean’s face brightened. 

“Scott you’re a genius!” She turned to hug him.

“Thanks, but what did I say?”

Completely ignoring Scott’s question, Jean just grabbed his arm and pulled him along the hall toward the Professor’s office. 

~~~  
You pulled the finished cinnamon rolls from the oven and began drizzling icing over them. The cake layers were cool and the sweet tea was chilling in the fridge.

‘Ms. _________?’

The voice rang out in your head and made you jump. It was Xavier. 

‘Would you come to my office please? We have a proposition for you.’ 

You bit your lip. 

‘Right away Professor.’ You thought back. 

~~~

You entered the office hesitantly, still unsure of what this proposition was. Jean, Scott, and the Professor turned to greet you. 

“Ah! Hello Ms. _______. I’m glad you could join us. Jean and Scott have thought of something that might help you settle in and get to know the Institute a bit better. Jean?” she turned from Xavier and looked at you. 

“How would you like to teach a cooking class?” Her voice was excited and her eyes shone. 

Your mind went blank for a minute. A cooking class? That was not at all what you expected. 

“You want me to teach a class? Of the students?” the surprise in your voice was obvious. 

“Yes. You’d have complete creative control. We think it would be a good way to give our students some life skills. And the class wouldn’t necessarily be limited to students. I’d personally love to attend one of the classes, and I’m sure some of the other faculty would be interested as well. And if the students become good enough they could help you with the meals. We know you’ve already got a big job as our chef but this might help out in the long run.” You slowly lowered yourself into a chair as the idea rolled around your brain. A cooking class. There was potential in that, but would it be too much? It was already a lot of cooking just to support the X-men’s appetite. But Jean did make a good point. 

“Could I start out with just one or two classes a week? Sort of ease myself in?” 

“Of course,” the Professor said, “We wouldn’t want you to over exert yourself.” 

“Could I have some time to think it over? Plan a little bit?”

“Take all the time you need.” Jean walked around the desk to put a hand on your shoulder, “We just want you to feel comfortable.” 

~~~

Pietro woke up late. He shuffled down stairs and poured himself a cup of coffee, decaf for the sake of everyone around him. As he slowly woke up, he leafed through the paper. As he paged through, a headline caught his eye: Tragic Taxi Crash Costs Life. As he read the article the color drained from his face. 

“Shit.”


	9. Chapter 9

Pietro ran. He did that when he was stressed. He had circled the city three times by the time he had made any kind of plan. Although, the plan was mostly groveling and excuses. Magneto didn’t have to know that he’d cut a deal with sister dear and that she’d gotten dead when he wasn’t looking. Even he couldn’t have imagined something like this would’ve happened, let alone prevented it. People rode in taxis all the time, you couldn’t predict that one would end in death and the others wouldn’t. Feeling slightly better Pietro ran home. He zipped to the still-steaming coffee pot and nearly dropped it and its contents on his foot when a female voice rang out from behind him. 

“Your father needs to see you, Pietro.” He turned around to see Vertigo standing in the doorway. Pietro’s first instinct was to run, but, before he could, a wave of nausea flowed over him. Vertigo had one hand raised in his direction, “There is a car outside. You cannot get away. This will be easier for you if you just get in the car. I really don’t want to haul your unconscious body into it.” The dizziness intensified. He couldn’t run. 

“All right, all right, I’ll get in the car.” He leaned against the counter, “Just, just stop the ride; let’s not ruin Dad’s upholstery.” 

Vertigo’s hand lowered and the sensation stopped. Pietro walked to the car and got in, followed by the silent woman. It was going to be a long day. 

~~~

The door opened to Magneto’s private rooms in his base of operations. Pietro cautiously stepped inside and was immediately trapped in a cylinder of metal. He yelped in surprise and was drawn quickly toward a figure seated in a large armchair. When his prison came to a halt, Pietro cautiously looked at his father. 

It was quiet for a moment. 

“What did I tell you to do?” the dark voice rang out from the figure in the chair. 

“I was to watch _______ _______.” 

“Wrong.” The voice said. Pietro’s prison grew tighter, “You were to handle her. And where is she now, Pietro?” He looked to the ground. 

“She’s dead, sir.” 

“That is… correct.” The cylinder tightened again, crushing a yelp from Pietro again, “So you have failed in your assignment, Pietro.” 

“Well it’s the little bitch’s own fault!” He snarled, “She was always trying to mess with your plans. She was always against the family! Always trying to escape and get away from here. Besides, she was only human!” 

Magneto stood and backhanded his son. The harsh cracking noise bounced off the polished metal walls. He then walked to the large picture window behind his chair and looked out over the panoramic view, thinking. 

“You’d best remember, Pietro, you’re talking about my daughter.” Pietro’s eyes were watering from the slap, “She was trying to get away, you said?” 

“Yes.” Pietro gasped out, “I spoke to her the day before she died. She was trying to get out of the country. I set her straight about her place.”

“And yet she was headed to the airport when she died.” 

“Maybe she was planning to take her chances with another run in with Sabretooth. I would’ve found her at the airport anyway. I was waiting there for her to show up just in case she was ballsy enough to try and run after being warned.” He lied through his teeth. Magneto turned slowly from the window and walked toward his son. 

“I am not convinced that she is dead. So, Pietro, I want you to look into it. I want you to go over all of the documentation. Talk to the coroner. Find and test her ashes if need be. I want proof that she is dead.” He grabbed Pietro’s chin in his hand and lifted it to face him, “And Pietro, do not fail me again.” The metal prison contracted sharply and a high pitched groan came from the speedster. Magneto dropped his head and released him from his metal confines. Pietro dropped to his knees, finally able to breathe properly. 

Magneto sat back in his chair.   
“Now get out of my sight.” 

~~~

Back at the Institute, dinner was just finishing up and the treats you had made earlier in the day were being served. Your mood had improved immensely since the morning. The day began getting better after Jean had proposed the new classes to you. When you had gone back to the kitchen, she followed and helped you begin planning curriculum. As you talked with her about the students and the Institute, you finally felt like you were getting back to normal. The conversation veered into family, periods, boys, that essential girl talk. You found out she was dating Scott, who had a brother in California if you were interested, she had added with a wink. You talked about this guy you met on a trip up to Michigan who thought he was god’s gift to women. You talked about maybe dying your hair one day, it could help with not being recognized and maybe you could go outside the Institute eventually. And when Jean eventually left to go prep for her own classes, a steady stream of mutants would stop by as you prepped lunch and dinner. Kurt told you stories about Germany and the monastery. McCoy stopped by and talked to you about some wonderful books he’d read. Piotr stopped by to share a recipe from Russia that he hadn’t eaten in much too long. Xavier and Storm attempted to teach Kitty how to play bridge in the dining room and her frustrated groans and victorious screeches made their way into the kitchen. It felt strange to have this many people around, but not bad. It felt safe, almost like home. 

As coffee was passed around and the cinnamon rolls were set out, you slipped in the kitchen to retrieve the cake you’d made earlier in the day. It was a huge sheet cake decorated with buttercream frosting and fresh fruit in the shape of flowers and vines. Across the center the words “Thank You, X-men” were written with frosting. Covering it with a cake lid, you carefully brought out the cake and set it down in front of Xavier at the head of the table. His brows rose as you set the large platter down, you just smiled at him. Grabbing a glass you tapped it with a butter knife, the light ringing getting everyone’s attention. 

“Hi, um, well, I just really wanted to say thank you, to Professor Xavier and to all of you. You all have been so kind and I really do owe you my life. So I know it isn’t much, but, thank you.” You blushed profusely and lifted the lid from the cake. A light gasp came from the surrounding mutants. Xavier turned to you, 

“This is beautiful Ms. ______. I think I speak for us all when I say, we are glad to have you here.” A smattering of applause ran around the table and you began to cut into the beautiful cake. You quickly had quite a few pieces plated and passed around. Soon everyone was eating… well, almost everyone. 

Logan sat at the end of the table with a stony expression on his face. Everyone around him was eating, talking, and laughing. Logan, however, was staring at cake. Your cake. The cake you made for the team, which included him. A silent war was going on in his head: to eat cake or not to eat cake? He couldn’t smell any sort of poison and no one else was showing any kind of effects. Those who had been served first were not showing signs of drowsiness or intoxication so it didn’t seem to be drugged, not with much at least. 

Logan had been eating the food you’d been preparing out of necessity, the fact that he could watch you at dinner was simply a bonus. He was ready for any slip up, any rip in the façade that you had up. Only time could tell if you were really innocent in all of this. Time was the only thing that Logan could trust when it came to the people in his life. Even Xavier’s mental queries weren’t enough for him. For the past four days you had been contained either in your room or the kitchen mostly, which meant it was easy for Logan to keep tabs on you. And everywhere else you’d gone you had had someone with you. Except in your apartment. 

Logan still wasn’t convinced that Pietro had really shown up to threaten you. The bruises on your neck were some proof, but they could’ve easily been made for several different reasons. You could still be a spy. 

His eyes followed you as you cut a piece of cake for yourself and bit into it. The cake looked fantastic and the raving around him supported that theory. You were eating it yourself, which threw out the possibility of poison. And the decision to eat the cake was made. 

You saw Wolverine step toward where you sat with your slice out of the corner of your eye. As he drew nearer you set your plate down and turned to face him. 

“Can I offer you some cake, Wolverine?” you asked with a kind, but tired smile on your face. 

“Yeah, that would be good.” He mumbled. Your eyes widened a fraction and a more sincere smile crossed your lips. You sliced a large piece of cake onto a plate and handed it over to him. 

“I hope you enjoy it.” You said, “And thank you.” He halted from turning to go back to his seat and raised an eyebrow at your gratitude. He studied your face for another half second and then returned to his seat and began eating. 

For a moment you both though the same thing: this really is fantastic cake.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all lovely lovelies! So at this point I need the final opinions on the pairing for the reader. The options I've decided on are: Logan, Gambit, or Warren. So let me know which you'd prefer and I'll see what I can do. Also, I'm back at school so it'll be a little longer between updates. Thanks!

Over the next two weeks, you really began to settle into the Institute. Your schedule began to fall in line and you’d even found time to relax a bit between meals. You became close with Rogue, Remy, and Kurt. Kitty even became something of a little sister to you. Remy would often flirt with you, much to Rogue’s ire. You couldn’t figure out at first if he was actually serious with some of his antics, but then you realized Remy would flirt with just about anything that could move, and you learned to laugh it off when his innuendo got a little too upfront. He could still make you blush though, which bothered you… a lot. But Rogue usually came to your aid with a well-timed smack and the yell of “SWAMP-RAT!” Jean became a mentor and a friend, and she was always ready to help you organize or plan or explain things. You usually only ever hung out with Scott in conjunction with Jean though. 

You had a bit more of a tenuous relationship with the younger mutants. A couple were scared of you at first; they thought you were planning on calling the Friends of Humanity or some threatening government agency to ruin their little paradise. You could understand it, especially from the older ones who had been on the run for some time before making it here. But it still made you feel like a bug under a jar. 

Others found you to be their newest form of entertainment. They’d come into the kitchen to show off their mutation or to ask about The Brotherhood, and sometimes just to beg for a snack before dinner. You wanted to keep yourself mildly distanced as you would soon be teaching these kids, but with some of them it was hard. Bobby Drake was a serious offender. He was a spirited, obnoxious, over-confident seventeen year old who was convinced he could woo you. It was endearing in an over-zealous-puppy kind of way; although sometimes you desperately wanted to deck him with a frying pan. You prayed that you would never get both Bobby and Boom-Boom, a spunky opinionated trickster with a mutation to match, in the same cooking class. Between the two of them they’d probably freeze and blow up the kitchen for shits and giggles. 

The adults were masters of balance. You honestly weren’t sure how they did it. They always seemed to have a moment to answer a question or muse about an idea. The Professor never raised his voice even while addressing the entire household. Dr. McCoy had an incredible wealth of knowledge about everything from chemistry to Brahms. Storm had a small green house adjacent to the main manor (which helped marvelously with fresh herbs for the food), and she was always popping into the kitchen with new ideas for spices and recipes. Even Piotr, who was usually stoic and quiet, would always help carry in the huge amounts of groceries that arrived every weekend. And then of course, there was Logan. 

Logan was a bit of an anomaly. He hadn’t quite warmed up to you; it was more like he was lukewarm. You didn’t talk beyond chitchat when he was feeling especially eloquent, but he didn’t glare at you anymore. He was more comfortable with you being there. And while you were by no means friends, Logan had been accepting more cups of coffee, snacks, and smiles than he ever did when you first arrived. 

All in all, you were comfortable. Far more comfortable than you’d been for a long, long time. Even though you were living in what was essentially a prison, you were finally allowed to rest from the constant fear, and that was more valuable to you than a life outside being monitored by thugs. And any restlessness that struck you could usually be tired out by walking around the grounds of the manor. 

One rainy afternoon, you were prepping a stew for later in the evening when Xavier rolled into the kitchen. You looked up from the vegetables you were chopping and smiled, 

“Hello Professor, how are you doing?” 

“Oh, I’m doing quite well, Ms._________, thank you. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that we will be having a guest for dinner tonight. He’s a friend from the city; he has a few things to discuss with us, so add another portion to the pot as it were.” Xavier smiled at you and you nodded. Grabbing a bowl of apple slices you kept in the fridge for visitors, you offered it to him.   
“Apple for your time?” you asked with a grin. 

“I believe I will, thank you.” He selected one and chomped as he rolled out of the room. 

You turned back to your chopping and began wondering who this visitor was. You assumed he was most probably a mutant, and his mutation must be something subtle if he was coming from the city. It was exciting to have a new face appear. It had been weeks since you last saw a stranger. You couldn’t imagine how McCoy and Kurt felt, having the idea of living in the world outside be virtually impossible. It might take you months or even years but one day you were sure you could create a new life somewhere, but for them, the way the world was now made that seem so far out of reach. 

~~~

As evening approached, you had the stew bubbling, drinks out, and rolls fresh baked. You were a bit ahead of schedule, so you were surprised to hear people walking into the dining room as you set out dishes and silverware. 

“And I’d like to introduce the newest member of our staff, Ms. _______ ________. She is our wonderful chef; she joined us just a few weeks ago.” Xavier’s voice floated over from the doorway and you turned to greet this mysterious guest.

You looked up and almost dropped an armful of dishes in shock. An angel stood in the doorway next to the Professor. There was no better description of the man before you. He was tall and blond, finely muscled under well-tailored business wear. And he had enormous, brilliant white wings. In a few long strides he was in front of you with a hand under the stack of dishes, helping steady them. You could feel your cheeks go pink but you could not stop staring at the sight before you. 

“Careful now,” the beautiful man chuckled, “I know my dashing good looks have caused some tragedies before, but that’s no reason for Xavier’s dishware to suffer.” You could feel the flush in your cheeks deepen as he shot a wink in your direction. To recover, you quickly turned back to the table for a moment to set down the heavy stack. As you moved away, you sent out a silent plea to the universe to save you from making a complete fool of yourself. 

“Thank you. I was just a little surprised. When the Professor told me we had a guest coming for dinner, he declined to tell me that I was going to be serving someone with such a,” you fought for the right word for a moment, “wingspan!” he chuckled and extended is wings to their full sixteen foot length, and you took a step back, eyes widening. Xavier sidled up to the ethereal man. 

“Well, since he’s a bit too busy showing off, I’ll introduce you two officially. _______, this is Warren Worthington III. He helps keep us informed about the world outside as well as contributing some wonderful charitable donations to the Institute, and of course, he is a dear friend.” As he was introduced, Warren folded his wings back to a manageable size and took the hand you offered in both of his. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Worthington.” You smiled as you shook his hand, which was strong but surprisingly light. 

“The pleasure is mine. And please call me Warren, Mr. Worthington makes me sound like some old fossil of a man.” He held your hand for just a moment longer than was friendly and then let it drop. You turned, still blushing, to Xavier. 

“Professor, if you wouldn’t mind calling everyone down, it is time for dinner.”


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Dinner was upbeat with Warren as the center of attention. He’d tell jokes and stories to the kids and he had valuable details about the politics in the city. Warren had been approached multiple times by Senator Kelly to back his campaign for the Mutant Registration Act, and each time he came around it seemed like Kelly had more allies. It was something to worry about but Warren was sure that he and his influential friends could at least slow things down. 

“Charles, if you had to come out as a force for mutants, using the school as an example, you could be very influential. You aren’t as public as you could be, but people still know you, and like you I might add. You, this school, it all looks very good from a political standpoint.” Warren gestured to the room. Charles shook his head. 

“I understand what you’re saying, Warren, but it’s simply dangerous. If we publicize our existence too early we don’t just endanger the cause but we endanger the lives of all those who live here. And even if by some miracle violence isn’t drawn to the Institute, the media will be. I don’t want my students to be hounded by reporters, or their families. That’s no way to grow up. If anything, I would stand alone. I cannot bring my students into that mess.” 

You stopped by the head of the table to clear a few dishes before you brought out coffee. 

“What do you think, ______?” Warren turned to you as you reached for Xavier’s plate. 

“Me?” you started a bit.

“Yes. You’re new to the Institute, so after living in both worlds, what do you think?” you thought a moment as you stacked dishes. 

“Well, I honestly think that right now is too early. It would be dangerous to bring attention to ourselves when groups like the Friends of Humanity are so powerful. Although, I am biased. I came to the Institute for the protection its anonymity grants; so I’m reasonably unwilling to give that up.” Most of the others at the table nodded. Warren quirked a brow and studied you for a moment before turning back to Xavier. 

“Well Charles, if you change your mind, I’ll get you in to meet with some important people, and we can get this ball rolling.” As the talk continued you disappeared into the kitchen. 

When you reappeared bearing coffee, the mood was lighter and Warren was recounting some stories from his own boarding school past. As you poured coffee, you giggled along with the group. You finally reached the man of the hour himself, 

“Coffee, Warren?” you gestured with the pot. 

“Yes, thank you, sweetheart.” You handed him the cup and looked at him with brows raised, silently questioning. Sweetheart? 

He simply shot back a smug grin and a wink. You let your eyes roll back in your head a bit, but a smile still managed to spread across your lips. You moved on to the next coffee drinker. 

~~~

Eventually, the talk moved to the main living room and you began to clean up. About forty-five minutes in, a gentle knock came at the door and Warren strolled through. 

“Ah! So this is where you’ve been hiding!” He seemed very pleased with himself. You dried your hands on a cloth and turned the music down to a dull background noise. 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it hiding. Did you need something? A drink?” you asked as you began putting dry dishes away in cupboards. 

“Need? I don’t really need anything. I do, however, want your company. You’re a regular old Cinderella in here. Come join the ball!” he leaned over a clean counter, his eyes never leaving you. You snickered a little at the analogy and sighed. 

“I would, Warren, really. Except there’s this funny little law that says an object at rest stays at rest. And I do not have the energy to take all of this on after a drink and a chat on a nice comfy couch.” 

“Alright, alright, Cinderella. But is this really what you do all day? Cook and clean?” 

“You make me sound like a servant! Xavier is protecting me when no one else would; I don’t mind working to repay that. And it keeps me busy. And I love cooking so it could be a lot worse.” 

“Well, you are a fantastic cook. Charles definitely has you doing the right job.” He rounded the corner to lean against the fridge next to you at the sink. 

“Thank you. I know it wasn’t flashy at all tonight but I thought it turned out alright. Oh!” you turned to gather up a few more things to put away, “The Professor didn’t tell me, are you staying the night?” A wicked grin crossed Warren’s face and a glint showed up in his eyes. 

“Is that an invitation?” 

For a moment you didn’t understand what he was alluding to. Then it hit you. Your face flushed and the stainless steel bowl in your hand hit the ground with a resounding crash. 

“Oh!” you ducked to grab the bowl and stop the terrible ringing noise it made while trying to calm yourself down, “I meant for breakfast! I, umm, oh lord. Because I make breakfast in the morning and…” 

At that moment you were saved by a charismatic Cajun walking in the door, “Remy! Hi, what brings you down here?” the words came out in a rush as you retreated to a shelf on the other side of the kitchen. His eyes flicked quickly between you and Warren, who had his back to the gambler. Warren closed his eyes and clenched his jaw for a moment before turning to greet Remy. 

“Chére, I was just looking for Warren here. We gonna start a little poker game, wanted to see if he was interested?” he looked at the winged man. Warren shrugged and nodded, 

“I’m up for taking your money, LaBeau. I’m feeling lucky.” They moved to leave. At the doorframe Warren turned back for a moment. 

“Cinderella, when you finish up here, you should definitely stop by.” He winked one last time and both men retreated. You leaned against a counter the moment they were out of sight. Running your hands over your face you sighed. No one had warned you that the angel had a little bit of devil in him.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

The rec room lights were focused on the poker table, leaving the rest of the room in dim shadows. Gambit shuffled a deck of cards as Warren, Rogue, Piotr, and Logan anteed up. Cards were quickly dealt around the table and the first round of betting began. There was a round of calls until Rogue put down a few chips. Remy raised to an ambitious five chips and the pot began to fill. The flop went down and the betting began again. Warren aggressively rose the bet to ten chips. Piotr dropped out. Logan raised another five on the ten and Rogue dropped. The turn arrived. The four community cards on deck had potential but nothing remarkable. 

“So, the newest addition to your household here seems very sweet. Is she always so industrious?” Warren commented as he sorted some chips out of his stack. Remy’s eyes dashed between his cards and his opponent’s faces. 

“She’s grateful to have a home. And she’s good at her job.” He murmured as he matched Warrens bet. The wager shifted to Logan. He puffed on a cigar and glanced at his cards. 

“So, Logan,” Warren prodded, “What’s your opinion?” Logan tossed in his chips. 

“I don’t trust her.” He growled. Warren’s brows shot up. 

“Really! Wolverine’s wary of the cute chef? That’s more than I expected.” 

“She’s got dark connections, Worthington.” 

“What?” Warren snorted, “She’s deep in the underground girl scouts drug ring? She’s a master diamond thief?” he gave a chuckle at the idea. Rogue’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak but another voice broke in before she could. 

“Very creative but no. Magneto is my father if you must know.” The players turned as you walked into the rec room. Warren’s cheeks flushed a bit as you pulled out the chair between him and Remy, “So it’s perfectly reasonable for Logan not to trust me.” 

“Cinderella! You made it! I’m glad.” Warren quickly covered up his embarrassment. 

“Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve played cards so I figured I’d try my luck. Is it alright if I join next deal?” you looked at Remy. 

“Well, of course, chère. As long as you’ve got the cash to back it up.” He leaned back in his chair and played with a chip. 

“What’s your rate?” 

“Low chips start at a dollar and go up to black, worth twenty five. Ante is five.” 

“Speaking of which, Cajun, it’s your bet. You in or out?” Logan’s low voice passed across the table.

“Mon ami, I am in.” he set down the required chips and the bet passed to Warren. 

“Well, I think I’ll let you two duke it out.” He pushed his cards in. The river flipped and there was a beat as each of the two men left looked at the board hand. There was a king of spades, a three and eight of diamonds, a jack of hearts, and an ace of clubs. A minute of furious betting went on between the two men. The pot grew at least seventy dollars before they both checked and had to show their cards. 

“You have the honor of showing first, Logan.” The Canadian slid his cards forward while puffing on his cigar. 

“Three of a kind.” He matched the king on the board with two more kings: hearts and clubs. There was a beat. Remy didn’t react. Then a smile twitched at the edge of his mouth. 

“Straight, mon ami.” He laid down the ten of clubs and the Queen of hearts, the grin was full on his face now as he raked in the chips. Logan leaned back in his chair. One hand went to rub his forehead and the other guided the cigar to his lips as he took a long draw. The smoke filled the air as the tension from the round was released into the air. 

You laid down fifty bucks on the buy in table and Remy doled out your chips. They were measly few in regards to the other players stacks, but you weren’t about to waste what little cash you had left. At most, you were hoping to sustain that fifty, and you promised yourself to quit if you either got to a hundred or twenty, whichever came first. 

The game proceeded quietly. Every now and again a groan or a cheer would rise from the collective fortunes of the group, but there was a decent bit of concentration going on. You tried to catch your opponents’ ticks. Rogue tended to shuffle her hand when she was nervous and would clench her jaw when a good card came on deck. Piotr would take a sip of his drink before he raised substantially, usually when he was bluffing. Warren was cocky. He liked to flourish his bets and build suspense before he made any daring move, fluctuations in that flourish sometimes showed his bluff. Logan was more difficult in that he was a straight shooter. He didn’t bluff much and when he did, there was no change in demeanor. Logan won on good cards, and his ever-rising stack of chips showed it. And then there was Remy. Remy really was the highest caliber of player. He was completely at ease and completely in control, even when he lost a round. It seemed like he almost chose a character every few rounds, sometimes somber, sometimes chatty, sometimes careless, and sometimes silly. There was no way to tell what each expression meant. 

The hours ticked on. 

Piotr left around 11, cashing out a reasonable seventy from the cash well on the other table. He left with a tired “Do svidaniya” and a yawn. The next to drop was Warren, although not out of fatigue. He had been getting sorely beaten for the last dozen hands or so and had finally accepted defeat and cashed out only thirty-five dollars, a sad fraction of the two hundred he had originally entered with. He stayed to watch the game continue though, and to vocalize snide remarks and flirtatious comments toward the players left. You were holding your own surprisingly well, given how long it had been since you had played, but you were playing safe. You had folded often and early to maintain the meager chips that you had started with; a few lucky windfalls had sustained your long game.   
Logan and Remy were cutthroat to each other. You could tell that this was a long battle between them, sometimes shifted, but never won. You’re real opponent was Rogue. She was nasty when she wanted to be; you’d been caught by her bluffs more than once. You hadn’t really been focusing on Warren for the time being. But every now and again he would come around with a bottle or a shaker to top off your (or someone else’s) glass of poison. 

It was drawing near one in the morning. 

The round was tough. Everyone was in deep. You had promised that, win or lose, you had to back out after this hand. You had to get up and cook in only a few hours and you had had too much to drink to make that a bearable idea. You could feel yourself getting a little too tired and a little too warm. Warren’s hands rested on your shoulders as you played, rubbing gentle circles into the tight muscles there. Somewhere in the back of your brain you weren’t sure if you really wanted Warren doing that but your tipsy, hazy body really didn’t care because it felt damn good. Rogue folded. And then Logan. It was down to the master and the rookie. You had decent cards. It was feasible that you could win, but Remy was impossible to read when you were completely sober. Tipsy, you had no read at all. You squinted hard at the cards on the table, and then at your own, and then at your chips. You checked his bet and the last card came down. It was a good one for you. It gave you a workable hand. Remy laid down his cards. 

You had lost. He had a dazzling hand. You flopped over your cards and pushed the pot over to him. His devilish grin curled up his face and he snagged one of your hands to lay a kiss on. 

“It was a pleasure to take your money, Chère.” You pulled a face and he laughed. 

“Well, it’s been lovely everyone, but I should’ve gone to bed hours ago.” You gathered your chips carefully and rose to your feet to go exchange them; however, as you stood your vision shifted and the world became one step closer to being a tilt-a-whirl, “Ohh.” You groaned. Warren was at your elbow in an instant. 

“Careful there, Cinderella.”

“Don’t you ‘Careful’ me! It’s your fault I’m like this!” you whined a bit and smacked him lightly on the shoulder, “You and that damned rum.” You grumbled. The other players chuckled a bit at your stumbling words. You lurched over to the cash well and began meticulously counting your chips out. Though, Warren stepped in after you lost count for the third time. He tucked a wad of bills into your hands, and began to steer you to the door. 

“Warren, let me take her. You can go get some rest yourself.” Rogue stood and cashed out her chips.   
“I can get her back to her room.” Warren’s grip tightened just a tad on your elbow.   
“Oh I have no doubt that you can, Worthington.” She eased your arm out of his grasp and looped an arm around your waist, “You got all your money, sweetheart?” You let out a sleepy yawn and nodded, “Alright come on.” The two of you headed off to the door.   
“Bye ladies! We will all surely dream of your whimsical beauty tonight!” Remy called from his seat.   
“Keep your dreams to yourself, swamp rat!” Rogue shook her head and you giggled a bit. 

The next morning was rough, but you did manage to get a breakfast laid out before climbing back into bed to try and get a few more hours of sleep. Getting another hour or two helped your headache and you were actually ready to face the day. After a quick shower, you returned downstairs to clean up from breakfast. With your late start already on your back, you began making lunch. You mused about what had happened last night. Poker had been fun, and the lack of tension (whether from tiredness or liquor) was a good change. Warren seemed like a bit of a playboy, unsurprising given his money, good looks, and status. It was nice to have the attention though; it had been years since you’d had any kind of romantic attachments. And though you weren’t about to jump into his arms, a little flirtation wouldn’t hurt anyone. Come to think of it, you had no clue whether he was even still here. He might’ve gone back to his city life already. 

You continued mixing up tuna salad and grilling sandwiches, and let your mind wander. You had music playing low in the background, some French jazz that you didn’t quite understand. It was peaceful. Tomorrow would be a hectic, crazy day: first day of cooking classes. You had a group at ten and one at two, they would be helping with lunch and dinner. Tomorrow would be more of a demonstration day anyway. Teaching the basic knife skills and how to work the stoves, how to keep a station clean, and how to tell if food has gone bad. There would be a lot to prepare for. 

~~~ 

Pietro was in one of his few still moods. He was perched on the edge of his seat in the small kitchenette of his apartment, fist under his chin. He wanted to run, but he had to think this out carefully. He needed to go through a lot of information without missing anything, not even a detail, and he couldn’t make waves. This was covert. If his sister was still alive, she’d run if she got the barest hint of someone sniffing her trail. And that’s hoping she wasn’t in South America somewhere laying low in a small village without electricity. He’d need manpower to back him up. Pietro reached for his phone and quickly sent out a mass message. He was getting the old gang back together; the Brotherhood was going to wake up. 

Once the message was received, Pietro stood from his chair. In a blink he was gone, running as fast as he could. He didn’t plan where he was going; he just let his body ricochet him across counties and towns. He was not going to enjoy this task. He returned to his apartment. Tomorrow the hunt would begin.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Pietro looked around the room. The Brotherhood was lounging around the apartment. He grimaced at the thought of needing to work with them again. Lance was moodily lounging on the couch. Toad and Blob were rooting through his fridge.   
“You all know my sister,” 

“Wanda?” Toad piped up from the pantry. 

“No, my half-sister, the human.” 

“What about her?” Lance turned his attention to Pietro. 

“Well, it seems she’s dead.” Movement stopped in the room. 

“Oh man,” Toad came out of the kitchen, “I’m sorry.” Pietro rolled his eyes. 

“I didn’t call you here for condolences; I don’t really care. However, my father does. He wants us to ensure that the account of her tragic accident is true, and she really is dead. The news said she was in a car accident. She was planning on running a few days before the crash so it’s possible that the report is true. However, it does seem that if she was desperate enough she could’ve staged it and moved on. Our job is to look into every facet of the incident and find her, dead or alive. Blob you’re on backup for the beginning. Lance, you and I are going to interview doctors, reporters, the police, everyone who’s in connection with this. While we do that, Toad you’re going to get into her apartment and search it for anything that might mean she’s still alive. If we don’t get anywhere with talking we’ll move into using more forceful methods to get our info. If need be, we’ll be getting ash to test for DNA. We’re gonna start this slow, nothing threatening, nothing that’s going to leave suspicion on us. You understand?” Pietro glanced around the room. The men nodded, “Alright Lance, you’re with me. You two,” he turned to Toad and Blob who were eating his food, “get the hell out of my house.” 

The two mutants grumbled and packed up food to go. Pietro turned to Lance, “Alright, we’re gonna start with the press, go put on your business suit.” 

“Why?” 

“Because, we are business men who just got in on a flight. I’m ______’s estranged brother and you are my best friend, helping me in a time of need. Meet me back here in an hour.” 

~~~

You walked into the kitchen with your game face on. It was time to teach some cooking. You walked through the work stations that held two students each, only about twelve kids in all. You quickly tied your apron around your waist and turned the burners up high on your station. The students quieted down and watched what you were doing. You reached for the knife block and pulled the large butchers knife out with a slick “sshhhk!” Grabbing ahold of the sharpening rod you began to sharped the large knife.   
*SHING* 

“Ladies and gentlemen…”  
*SHING*

“I want to impress upon you that the art…”  
*SHING*

“…we will be learning over the next few weeks…”  
*SHING*

“Is both dangerous…”  
*SHING*

“and useful.”   
*SHING*   
You placed the rod back in its place. 

“If I see anyone acting reckless, thoughtless, or disrespectful, there will be severe,” you stuck the large knife into the thick cutting board in front of you, “consequences. Am I clear?” The students began to nod. “I didn’t hear you. Am I clear?” 

A chorus of yeses were called out. 

“Lesson one, you will call me ‘Chef’ when you are in this room. So once again please: Am I clear?”

“Yes, Chef!” the chorus spoke as one. 

“Good.” You grinned and threw some flour above the burner and watched as the fire jet shot up spooking the students. You grabbed a pan and drizzled olive oil on it setting it to sizzle over the burner. Grabbing a zucchini, you chopped it with the large knife sticking out of the board. In three seconds flat the perfectly cubed squash was sizzling in the pan.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in this class you will be learning the testament of fire and knives. Food is the universal language, it can communicate things you can’t say out loud,” you cracked some pepper over the pan, “And it will make your life better, though it will probably ruin fast food for you. We are here to profess our love for good food.” You took the zucchini off heat and slid them onto a plate, “Grab a toothpick everyone.” You came around with the lightly seasoned veggie. Everyone took a cube and ate it after letting it cool a bit. You returned back to your station.

“There is another cardinal rule in my kitchen: no mutant abilities.” A hand shot up, “Yes Bobby?” 

“Why no powers, Chef?”

“There are several reasons. First, you are all still gaining control of your abilities, for the safety of the class we cannot risk someone losing control of, let’s say an ice beam, when there are several people, knives, and open flames around. Second, if you found yourselves unable to use your powers, I want you able to support yourselves. I’m trying to make sure that no matter what, you can eat well. And lastly, shortcuts don’t make good food. You need to respect your food, not cheat it out of its time. So, no powers. Now everyone, put on an apron; we’re going to focus on knife skills today!” 

~~~

The tires of Pietro’s luxury car squealed as he turned into a space in front of the local newspaper’s publishing office.   
“You’ve got our back story?” both men were in suits, Pietro a light gray that dulled his strangely silver hair, and Lance in a considerably more worn navy. 

“Yeah, broken up step-brother of killed girl, best friend. Tired after an immediate flight. Estrangement due to arguments about money a few years ago. Your name is Arthur and mine is Drew.” 

“Let’s go.” 

They exited the vehicle and walked into the foyer of the office. A pretty, but bored, secretary looked up at the familiar creak of the door.   
“Can I help you gentlemen?”   
“Yes, we’re here to see a Ms. Herring? We called a few hours ago. It was a last minute appointment.” Pietro’s voice melted with charm. Lance stood awkwardly behind him. The secretary clicked through a few pages on her computer.   
“Ah, yes. I’ll buzz you in. Through that door and to the elevator. You want the third floor, room 290. Ms. Herring is expecting you.”   
“Thank you.” The men turned and walked through the glass door that led into the building. 

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to a floor of cubicles and wall offices. The cubicles buzzed with activity but Pietro and Lance paid them no mind. Taking the lead, Pietro walked to the office and knocked. The door was opened by a plump woman in a black pencil skirt and a deep blue top.   
“Oh, hello! You must be Arthur Cain. Come in.” She held the door open to an orderly office. The two men sat in the chairs in front of her desk and she took a seat behind it, “Now, how can I help you? You were interested in the crash that happened a week ago?”   
“Yes. _______ ________, the girl in the crash, she was my step-sister you see.” Lance patted Pietro’s shoulder. The journalist’s face fell. 

“Oh, I am so sorry. We looked for family but we couldn’t find any in her records.” 

“It’s alright. She had me removed from all of her documents. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. We had a fight about three years ago and we haven’t… hadn’t talked since. I was just hoping you could tell me, since you were at the scene, could you tell me about the crash. I- I need to know.” 

“I am so sorry for your loss Mr. Cain. I can tell you what I saw and what I found out. Most of it is in the article but I can fill in here and there. I can give you the number for the coroner and one of the officers who were at the scene as well. Have you gone to the police yet?” 

“Yes, although they weren’t all that helpful. Talking to the officer directly would be wonderful.” 

“Alright, I’ll tell you what I saw.” 

~~~  
The two men left the publisher with a slip of paper. Lance looked at Pietro and chuckled, “Ya know, you should’ve been an actor.” Pietro raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh?” 

“You sold the sob story like a pro.” Pietro looked at Lance for a moment, holding his gaze. Then he broke it and slid into the driver’s seat. 

~~~  
“That will be all for today. Bobby and Forge you both stay behind. The rest of you are free to go.” The class filed out of the kitchen talking and giggling. The two you called out sat sullenly behind. 

“What are you gonna make us do chef?” Bobby drummed his fingers on the counter. 

“It’s very simple, the most useful thing to make you two do is dishes.” You grinned as they both groaned out loud, “Now come here, you’ve got to learn how sometime. We’ve got a three sink system to make sure we clear health codes.” 

After ten minutes of explaining and checking up on their washing ability, you left the couple to finish scrubbing. You rubbed down the counters where the class had been and began to reorder the supplies they had used. As you were straightening up, Xavier rolled into the room. 

“Hello Ms. ______! How did your first class go?”   
“Hello! It went very well, Professor. Though we had a few moments of mischievousness, they’re getting their energy out by learning the important art of washing dishes.” Charles chucked as he glanced at the sinks to see the boys sullenly washing up. 

“Well I’m glad to know you have a firm grasp on your students. I do, however, have a request from some of the senior staff. They were wondering if you could keep a station open for a member of staff to drop by during your lessons. I know Hank and Ororo were both interested in dropping in between classes. Do you think you could work that into your classroom?” 

“That sounds like a lovely idea, Professor. It wouldn’t be a problem at all. I would just have to ask that only one or two drop in at a time, I wouldn’t want to waste resources every class.” You stacked some stray dishes that had been left on counters. 

“Very good, I’ll let the staff know. Have a lovely day, _________, I’ll see you at dinner.” 

~~~  
Magneto paced in his study, the executive toy on his desk going mad with the frustrated energy in the room. Grief was a strange thing. He couldn’t sleep but not out of sadness. He was angry constantly, at Pietro, at Wanda, at Mystique. At himself. And most of all at you. Why hadn’t you been blessed? If you had developed a mutation, any mutation, his plans would’ve developed so much more smoothly. And this death, if it really was your death (was he in denial?), was simply putting more of a wrench in his plans. A knock sounded at his door. 

“Enter.” His voice was cold; he continued to pace. Wanda stepped into the room, “What is it?” 

“You are troubled, Father.” Wanda’s voice was low and her comment was more of a statement than a question. 

“My daughter just died.” 

“You are not grieving for her. You grieve for your plans, and your strategy. She was taken out of play before you needed her.” 

“Do all my children believe I am completely heartless?” Wanda snorted. 

“Magneto, you are a great many things, a general, a revolutionary, a strategist, a judge, an idealist… however, Father… doesn’t quite make the list.” He simply kept pacing, “You’re doing better with Lorna, in case you’re wondering. Although, that’s hardly a surprise given her mutation.” 

“Are you just here to critique my parenting style, or do you have something relevant to discuss?” 

“I’m here about this witch hunt you’ve initiated for the dearly departed. Let’s say she is alive, and let’s say Pietro, miracle of miracles, finds her: what are you going to do? Drag her back here and keep her imprisoned? She won’t help you then. She will always keep running, or she might attempt something more nefarious, either on herself or you. She’s not a predictable agent anymore. I could go into her head but that won’t work in the long run. It would keep her docile, not the spokesperson you need to change the world. And if she gets away, she will speak against us. If you simply let her go, she might stay small and quiet, out of fear. So, if you find her, drag her back here out of whatever third-world nation she’s holed up in, will you kill her yourself? That’s the only thing I can imagine achieving out of this.” Eric finally stopped pacing. He turned to look at his eldest daughter. 

“I want to know where the players are, if Pietro finds her he will report to me. If she is holed up in some hut I will know and make a decision. If she is hiding under my nose, I will know and that knowledge, Wanda, is what gives me the ability to win.” He settled into the large chair behind his desk. 

“I still don’t know why you gave this to Pietro. You know he’ll fail you somehow. He’s a loose cannon.” 

“A loose cannon, Wanda, spinning in the right direction, can still wreak havoc on our opponents.” 

“Or blow us to pieces.” She paused and sighed, “Well goodnight, Father. You should try to get some rest.” Wanda left the room, the heavy door falling quietly behind her. The executive toy gently fell to a stop. 

For the first time in a week, Magneto slept soundly.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

The Brotherhood’s efforts had been fruitless. Lance and Pietro’s trail had gone cold after the police officer had basically reiterated the report they’d already read. She had directed them to the morgue. That led them to an understaffed, over worked cremation center where they were told that they would be called back when their urn was found. 

Toad had made it into the apartment and had marginally better luck. That was one of the easier tasks as it had already gone back on the market. He had scoured the couple rooms for anything that might have pointed them toward where she was headed, but the landlord said that anything that was left had been picked up already by the designated movers. The landlord did mention the letter he had found left for him. It was noncommittal, just some lines about needing to go on a trip, and the next few months’ rent. All they knew was that ______ had been planning to go somewhere, which fit with both theories. It had been two weeks with little to no progress. Pietro was getting antsy. Lance had been looking into the paper trail from the liquidation of her apartment. Everything large, furniture and the like, was accounted for by various organizations some of it already sold. There wasn’t enough detail on little things that might have been keepsakes, things she wouldn’t have left without, to track them, and Pietro didn’t know what to try and track in the first place.   
It was Toad who actually made a decent breakthrough. He was looking through online records, bank statements and such, after calling in a favor from a hacker he had helped out a while back. 

“Hey… Pietro, Lance, her accounts are empty.” His right eye blinked quickly the double lid shuttering quickly. 

“Of course she probably--” Lance was cut off by Pietro. 

“How were they drained?” in an instant Pietro was looking over Toads shoulder. 

“Well,” he sighed, “it seems like she took a reasonable amount out of her account in cash, this transaction here, and then after the crash these withdrawals went to the insurance, cremation, processing, all the post-crash costs, but…” 

“But?” Pietro was trying to scan the documents. 

“Well, the time stamps look like they should for the crash, but the time that each withdrawal actually happened… everything was taken out at once, maybe minutes apart, but not days. And there’s a bunch gone from this source: Exico ATM, which would make sense she grabs all her cash so she can run, but the charge physically happens after the crash occurred, it’s stamped as before but the payout happens hours later. Either we’re seeing the most convenient identity theft on the planet or--”

“She’s not dead.” Pietro cut Toad off, grinning wickedly, “I must say, I’m surprised. For her to set all this up… it must have taken months, years, maybe. Toad, nicely done, I want you to look into this Exico company, work on the real trail for the money.” 

“Speedy, you may want to double check the physical evidence. Records can be altered, and this could still be some kind of opportunistic identity theft. And it could be computer error. I don’t want to send us on a goose chase.” Toad spun lazily in his desk chair. Pietro nodded. 

“Lance do we have a time on when the crematory will get back to us?” 

“Between six and eight business days.” 

“Well, we may have to speed that wait time up a bit.” 

~~~  
Back at the Institute, you had finished lunch not too long ago; most of the students were outside doing drills with Wolverine. On nice days like this, he liked to set up obstacle courses and give the students missions. It was good training for strategy and teamwork. And it left the house quiet for a bit. Ignoring, of course, the occasional yelp and cry from misdirected powers. It was nice to get all the students out of the manor, at least for a while.   
You were prepping some snacks for when their training finally finished. Wolverine was a hard-ass, especially when it came to training. You understood why, those kids would likely have to risk their lives, not to mention all the social stress their mutations gave them. They had to know that their powers were under control, for their sakes and the community. But that also created a horde of hungry adolescents and that was a terrifying force to behold. So you cut up huge French rolls and made sandwiches, and filled pitchers with lemonade and water, and you prepped dinner in a huge crock pot in the corner. 

The kids had been training for a couple hours at least, you found a serving cart folded up in a closet and filled it with the snacks. You wheeled the cart toward the back of the mansion and walked out into the sun. 

The grounds were beautiful. A patio opened out over the large expanse of open lawn. To the left was a duck pond and to the right the gardens began on the other side of a dividing hedge. A faint glint of light off in that direction signaled where Storm’s green house was. On the other side of the pond, tennis courts were set up and next to them a swimming pool. Everything was manicured to perfection. An oasis fit for at least minor royalty. 

On the immediate lawn, the students had complete free reign. Everyone was powered up, everyone was dashing around madly. Jets of fire and ice were flying, small explosions were going off, peals of wind, sudden invisibility, playful screams and grunts were heard almost constantly. The activity seemed to be concentrated on a softball, the possession of which seemed to signify who was winning. Wolverine was timing each possession and calling out directions, warnings, and every now and again praise. 

You smiled on the porch and began wiping down the outside table with a rag you’d brought from inside. You’d glance at the game between setting the table. It was really incredible, these kids were amazing. And some of the moments were hilarious. Bobby had seen you come outside and attempted to show off by blowing you a kiss while skating six feet in the air only to get knocked off balance by a shock from Jubilee. Morph changed to look like BamBam and intercepted a pass from Kitty leaving her looking shocked. Chuckling to yourself, you returned to the food. 

When everything had been set up, you moved toward Wolverine. Approaching him from the side, you kept one eye on the game. 

“Wolverine, whenever the kids are done, there’s food for all of you. They must be working up an appetite.” He simply nodded and grunted. You watched for another moment, just marveling at the feats you were seeing. You were about to turn and go back into the house, when the softball rolled right to your feet. The game slowed for a moment, you looked at the ball, reached down, and picked it up. You looked up at the students who had paused the game to wait for your next move. You grinned and began running with the ball tucked in your arms. With a shout, the horde was after you. A streak of giddy terror shimmied down your back. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead; you weren’t the most athletic person and you had about twelve super-powered kids on your tail. You glanced back to see them gaining, and turned back to put on a burst of speed. A chill went up your spine when a cold drip landed on your back and you looked up to see Bobby skating above you ready to drop down. You veered a sharp left. You dodged a few of BamBam’s explosives when you saw them rolling toward your feet. But now you were getting corralled by the pond. The kids were surrounding you and you didn’t have some kind of power to help you. The edge of the pond fenced you in and you began to run alongside it. The two teams from before seemed to become one, and they were coming quick. You’re strength was flagging. Your legs and lungs burned; you knew you couldn’t do this much longer. You turned to look at the quickly advancing group, but a strange tingling sensation vibrated from your middle. You looked down to see Kitty’s torso protruding from your stomach, and in an instant she was through you. The tingle echoing down your spine and then fading. Out of pure fear and shock you let out a scream and stumbled back. These few steps back sealed your fate as you lost your balance completely and fell straight into the pond. 

The cold water shocked your senses even more, if it was possible, and you let out a deep gasp as you sat up in the water. The students came to a screeching halt. Wolverine had come running over and Kitty had rushed back as soon as she heard the splash. 

You were panting, soaking wet, and mildly traumatized from having a teenager walk through you. Kitty was apologizing profusely; Wolverine was looking you over trying to tell if you were hurt. And suddenly you felt absolutely absurd. You began laughing as a blush sprouted from your cheeks. Slowly the students began to giggle too and Kitty helped you out of the pond. 

“I’m fine; I’m fine!” you tried to tell everyone but you were laughing too hard. You waved Kitty off and picked up the abandoned softball, “Well. I probably shouldn’t play ball when I don’t have the muscles to back it up. But you all can fight over it!” You chucked the softball into the mass of students who quickly devolved back into the game. You squeezed some water off your hair and sighed, as you turned to go back inside and clean yourself off, you thought you saw Wolverine glance at you with a small smile and a nod, but you couldn’t be sure. 

~~~  
As you showered off and changed clothes, you kept thinking about the game. You had gotten out of your exercise routine when the move had happened. You used to be able to run at least a little bit, but now, winded was your average. 

You walked around the Institute looking for one of the teachers. You stumbled upon Gambit before anyone else. 

“Remy!” you called out. He spun to see you and a grin crossed his features.   
“Oui, Madame?”   
“I was wondering, where do the student’s train? I was out in the yard and saw them practicing. It reminded me how lazy I’ve been. Is there a gym or something than I haven’t found yet?” as you spoke Remy’s smile slid off his face to be replaced with a pensive look, “Is something wrong?”   
“Well… no. Not quite. The students, they have a very special place to train, I can’t show it to ya, mutants only ya see. But you should be allowed to exercise like everyone else. I’ll see what I can do.”  
“Oh, alright then.” You felt a bit taken aback. Of course you knew that there were places on campus that you had no business using. When you had first been taken in the Professor had explicitly told you that some areas were off limits, bit that had sort of faded into the background with the excitement of the last few weeks. You had hoped that maybe you weren’t so mistrusted anymore. It struck you more than ever that you were different. You hurried back to the kitchen. 

~~~  
Gambit walked off to Charles’ study. He had seen the look of hurt that had flickered across your face the moment he said “mutant’s only.” He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. But he understood the rules. He knocked loudly on the door and was quickly asked in. 

“Yes, how can I help you?” Charles was looking up from a flurry of documents on his desk. They looked a lot like bank statements and bills, not a good time. Remy sat down and explained the situation quickly, “Gambit, I understand that this request might seem reasonable but we’ve already planned for this. She is still a potential danger to us, and the gym that she could use is in the lower level. We cannot give her access to that area of the Institute.” 

“How is that fair? She hasn’t given us any reason to distrust her!” Charles rubbed his forehead. 

“It’s not fair, that I grant you. But I will not risk the security of my students over one individual.” 

“What- what if we at least talk to some of the others about this? Schedule a meeting, at a better time? Would that be alright?” Charles held his Remy’s gaze for a moment then sighed. 

“Fine. I will let you know.” 

“Merci Xavier, you are truly a gentleman and a scholar.” 

“Oh, get out of my study.”

~~~  
A few hours later, after dinner, the older x-men were gathered in Xavier’s study.   
“There has been some talk about opening up some of the lower floors to Ms._______. And I have been thinking about potential situations; there is some concern about her ignorance of a few key fields. The medical wing for example. If a student were to get hurt her likely reaction would be to call an ambulance when we have our own facility here. However, we cannot allow her into anything pertaining to x-men business. So I’d like to open the discussion out to you all; should we give Ms. ______ some more access?” Charles sat back and waited for someone to speak. 

“I understand the possible need to allow her more access, eventually,” Scott was picking his words carefully, “but Professor, doesn’t this seem rather soon? She’s only been here a few weeks. The payoff seems too low. It’s too much of a risk. Even if we don’t give her access to the danger room, Cerebro, the jet, she’d still be much closer to it all. She could sneak in, maybe see someone put in their codes, it’s risky. I like her, I really do. But we just don’t know her well enough yet.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Gambit spoke up, 

“Don’t we owe her the trust that she’s earned? She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s followed our every instruction. I agree that she hasn’t been around for very long but if her mission was to hurt us then she’s had plenty of opportunity, as Logan has pointed out.” Ororo stood, 

“But if she is here for information, which I don’t believe, our giving her more freedom would be playing right into her hands. I don’t like it either, none of us here do, but we cannot risk that.” There was a lull in the discussion while people nodded. Then, from a corner of the study, Logan began to speak, 

“Chuck, why’d you call us here? This is a non-issue. It was decided when she got here.” 

“She wants to exercise, a noble pursuit, and I thought it would be good to perhaps revise her limitations. But you are right, there is another topic I need to discuss with you all.” Eyebrows rose around the room. 

“The girl wants to train? Well then, I’ll train her.” Logan cracked a grin, “It’ll give me a chance to test her.” 

“Logan? Are you sure?” Xavier looked at him a bit shocked. 

“Of course. I’ll watch her while she’s down in the gym; she’ll be worked too hard to think of spying. And since she’ll be chaperoned with me, she doesn’t need access codes. I’ll just run some basic training through her. No danger room of course, she’d get herself killed. Now, what did you actually want to talk to us about?” The room was quiet for a few beats, but what Logan proposed made sense, and it seemed to hit a happy medium, though what _______’s reaction to this would be interesting, “Well, Chuck?” the attention in the room shifted back to Xavier. 

“I would like to devise a contingency plan. We have Magneto’s daughter after all. And there have been questions asked about the girl in the car crash according to our sources.”


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15 

You were lounging in your room, reading a book, when a loud sharp knock sounded at your door. You jumped and set the book aside, moving to open the door. When you did, you came face to face with the craggy form of Wolverine. He was leaning against the door frame and picking at his nails. 

“So,” he started, not looking at you, “I hear you want to train.” You felt an uneasy sensation in your gut.   
“If this is about my asking to use the gym, it’s not a big deal. I was just wondering; I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I’m fine really. I don’t know why I tried to bring it up.” You babbled trying to get the muscled man off your case. He grunted to shut you up. 

“Nah, you asked to train, so I’m gonna train you. Now suit up in whatever work out gear you have. You’ve got five minutes.” He pulled the door closed, leaving you startled. You couldn’t really process what was happening, but then you heard, “Four minutes!” barked at you through the door and you jumped to get your clothes on. You were just pulling on your gym shoes when Wolverine opened the door, “Time’s up. Let’s go.” He turned and walked out the door, leaving you to hop after him while he strode down the hall. When your shoes were finally on, you caught up to him at the elevator at the end of the hall. You’d seen them around, but instead of buttons, there was a scanner which you assumed you didn’t have access for. 

Wolverine put his hand to the scanner and it glowed green for a moment. The doors to the elevator opened and you both stepped in. He keyed in a floor number and you felt the elevator move. 

“This is how this is going to work. I will let you know when you work out. I will run your work outs and monitor your progress. You cannot go to any of the lower levels without me. Be ready to train anytime you’re not teaching or cooking meals.” You blanched a bit at the prospect, but the way he was talking about this, you weren’t allowed to argue. The elevator dinged and opened out to a hall. One side was completely glass windows that looked into a large gym. The other side was metal plating. Wolverine took the lead and brought you to a set of double doors that let into the glass room. There were rows of work out equipment to one side. In the middle of the room there was a boxing ring, next to it were several punching bags and speed balls, and on the other side was weights and lifting equipment. The walls were mirrored.   
It’s like a fishbowl. 

Thankfully, you two were the only ones in the gym. No one but your new trainer would see how long it had been since you’d tested yourself physically. He pointed to a metal panel on the floor to your left.

“Take off your shoes, and stand on that. It’ll tell us your height, weight, BMI. All of that. You did as you were told, slightly nervous about what the scale would read out. Wolverine went to the read out to the side of the panel and began recording info. 

“What does it say?” your voice seemed small in the big room. 

“You don’t need to know.” his voice was brusque. He didn’t look away from the screen. 

“Tell me what it says.” You hardened your voice. You wouldn’t let him bully you when it was your own information. 

“You don’t need to know.” he just repeated. You moved to step off the pad and look at the screen yourself, “Don’t move.” 

“Tell me what--” He cut you off. 

“I don’t tell anyone their numbers. People get obsessed with numbers. It gets in the way. You’re here to get stronger, not look at numbers.” He finished writing, “Now go choose a treadmill.” You did as you were told. 

That afternoon was diagnostic heavy. Wolverine would let you set the machines to what you thought was right, watch you do a set, and change everything from the weight you had to your form. You fell into this twilight zone of sweat and pain. There were no clocks in the gym, you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Wolverine’s expression never changed from his set look of calculated boredom. Every now and again he’d correct you, or bark and order to pick up the pace or control the weight more. He cycled you through legs, core, arms, and back again. Every now and again he’d throw in a stretching set as well. Small grace that it was, he did set a playlist of workout music in the background to keep you going. The silence would’ve killed you off before the intensity of the workout if he hadn’t. Through the whole process, he stood watching and writing notes in a little notebook. It was infuriating. 

“Alright, we’re done for the day. Besides, I think you need to go make dinner.” You let the weight fall a bit quicker than normal in excitement, “Don’t drop the weight!” he turned to leave. You get out of the machine and ran to follow. Every part of you was worn out. 

The ride up the elevator was tense. You were slumped against the back wall attempting to get your breath under control. You were embarrassed but you couldn’t help that you’d just been run through the most exhausting workout of your life. The doors opened and you stumbled into the hall. You made it to your room and flopped onto your bed. You didn’t know what Wolverine thought, and you didn’t care at this point. You glanced at your bedside clock: 5:10. You needed to start dinner. You had been in the gym for almost three hours. You didn’t even have time for a shower. You let out a long, obnoxious groan into your pillow and got up to go cook. 

~~~  
The next week passed in a haze of lessons and sweat. Every morning you woke up to aching muscles. Some mornings you woke to Wolverine pounding on your door to drag you back to the gym. Other days he’d show up at the door to the kitchen as you were washing dishes. He’d pull you from the middle of board games and naps, kept you from getting to bed, even stopped you from taking a shower once. You lived in the three outfits you had for the gym, after Logan grabbed you after lunch one day and wouldn’t let you change. You dreaded running into him more and more; it seemed like every time you saw the burly man he intended to take all his frustration out on you. You didn’t talk; the gym was almost always silent, save for Wolverine’s barked orders, but you thought you could see malice in his eyes. He kept his face carefully blank throughout your workouts, but you still thought he had this hint of derision when he looked at you. You were mentally and physically exhausted, constantly. Everyone seemed to notice, but who was going to argue with Logan? 

It was Friday night, you’d finished dinner and Kurt, Kitty, and Jean had begged you into watching a movie with everyone. You knew in the back of your mind that Logan was going to drag you out of the home theater as soon as you got comfortable, but the guys seemed excited and so you agreed. They popped in an action flick and you sank into the plush couch between Kurt and Remy. The two were making jokes and needling each other, but you were too tired to get involved. The opening credits had just finished when Logan walked into the room. You could sense him, in the doorway. You tensed up and sighed preparing to get up and follow him to the gym. 

“Where’ you goin’?” his gruff voice asked, shooting a questioning look at you as he situated himself on the back couch. Your brow creased in confusion. 

“We’re not… going to the gym?” You peered at him over the back of the couch, the disbelief thick in your voice. 

“It’s Friday,” he grunted, “Now sit down, ya make a better door than a window.” You relaxed back into the couch, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and grinned wide. The boys either side of you grinning at each other. The whole room seemed lighter after that. The movie wasn’t especially good, but most everyone was paying attention. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, it didn’t matter how many explosions went off, and Remy gently stroking your hand wasn’t keeping you from falling asleep. Half an hour into the movie you were completely out, slumped over onto Kurt, legs hitched over Remy’s. He’d taken to rubbing your calves which, after all the exercise, was heavenly. The boys didn’t mind. They’d felt Logan’s ire before. It was never pleasant. And they were more than happy to be a support, even a physical one. 

Eventually, the movie ended. People began to stretch and stand, commenting on the characters and plot. Kurt was groggy, his head back against the sofa cushions. Remy smirked and leaned over you. 

“Chère… chère? Wake up, sweetheart.” He tickled your legs a bit, you flinched a bit but were otherwise unchanged. You were getting progressively worse at waking up given how worn out you were. 

“Gambit, we might just want to bring her to her room.” Kurt yawned, blinking slowly. Gambit hummed in agreement and carefully shifted your legs off his lap. Standing in front of you, he gently wrapped his arms under your knees and around your back, cradling you. 

“Kurt, I think I’ve got her. You can go sleep, you look like you need it, no?” Kurt nodded. 

~  
Gambit made his way down the halls, careful to keep jostling to a minimum, though he needn’t have worried, an earthquake wouldn’t have woken you. He was humming lightly, variations on Frère Jacques, until he made it to your room. He carefully laid you down on your bed, removing your shoes and plugging your phone in to charge. You let out a sigh as your head hit your pillow curling up a bit. Remy chuckled. 

“Goodnight, petite fleur.” He patted your hip lightly and turned out your light, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Logan was a few feet down the hall. Remy sighed when he spotted the man, “Tell me, mon ami, are you here to make sure the girl isn’t faking being dead asleep? Or are you checking up on me?” 

“Simply passing through.” Logan’s eyes were hard as they stared at the Cajun. 

“Scott might have been fine with playing this game with you, Logan, but I am not. If you wish to pursue her, you may want to make yourself clear. And I will tell you now, you cannot intimidate me out of my own pursuits.” Gambit turned and began walking down the hall, “Good night, mon ami.” He waved and turned a corner, not looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> Still haven't decided the love interest yet. Also the environment for this story is a little jumbled, I was originally basing it on the Original 90's Animated Series so the team includes Gambit as a good guy (why is he suddenly evil everywhere else?) I've just kinda changed a few ages, here's a general breakdown.  
> You - 22  
> Professor Xavier - 50-60ish (is there an official age for Xavior?)  
> Rouge - 25  
> Gambit - 26  
> Scott - 24  
> Jean - 24  
> Kurt - 23  
> Kitty - 21  
> Beast - 36  
> Storm - 34  
> Logan - ageless (looks about 27-28)  
> Colossus - 32  
> Pietro - 25  
> Lance - 23  
> Toad - 19  
> Blob - 20  
> Pyro - 25  
> Wanda - 25  
> Magneto - 55ish (I know he has the Holocaust connection but I'm going on what he looks like for this story)  
> Jubilee and other younger x-men are between 14 and 18.


End file.
